


Found

by Emmilyne



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Post 3x10, Romance, olicity - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-04-19 19:23:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 69,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4758002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmilyne/pseuds/Emmilyne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if after Ra’s Al Gul pushed Oliver off the mountain in The Climb, Mateo brought him to a secret ARGUS base to get medical treatment instead to a hut with his ex-wife?  Lyla would be notified and Team Arrow would want one of their own watching over him in his weakened state.</p><p>An AU where Felicity is the one to help Oliver get back on his feet after his fight with Ra’s and not Tatsu. And that changes everything. </p><p>Post 3X9/3X10</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Text

**Author's Note:**

> This picks up during Season 3, Episode 10: Left Behind, after Felicity leaves the Arrow Liar believing Oliver dead, saying she’s done fighting the fight. For Oliver it goes AU mid-episode with the premise that Maseo drops him off with ARGUS instead of with Tatsu. (Let’s face it Oliver got a sword through his abdomen, he needed surgery not penicillin tea.) This takes place before Felicity starts dating Ray, before Lyla and Digg get married and before Thea finds out about Oliver being the Arrow.

Oliver was gone.

It repeated in her mind over and over, leaving her numb.  Felicity thought it must be a nightmare because it couldn’t be real.  I didn’t _feel_ real.  But, then again, nothing felt real.

But it kept going.  The nightmare.  Felicity wouldn’t wake up no matter how many times she pinched herself.

When was she going to wake up?  Please, let it just be a dream.

 

^^^^^^^^^^

 

Felicity was in her office at Palmer Industries when she received the text.   Ray was going on and on about… _something_ , while Felicity’s foggy mind contemplated whether she should actually attempt to listen or if she should—

Had the office always this gray? Why would anyone want to work in a place that was all steel gray and glass and more gray? It couldn’t be good for productivity.   Not that Felicity’s productivity had a chance in _hell_ at the moment.  Maybe it wasn’t even really gray at all.  Maybe this was just the grief talking.  Maybe everything was gray now. 

Wow, _that_ was melodramatic. 

Color was a really stupid thing to think about.   Felicity needed to put her efforts into working or listening or breathing…

It chimed again. 

 Her phone.

“Felicity?  Are you going to answer that?”  Ray asked. 

Felicity started, then shook her head to clear the cobwebs from her brain.   She grabbed her phone out of reflex, not stopping to think about the fact that there really wasn’t anyone she wanted to hear from right then.  That the only person she _wanted_ to talk to wouldn’t be texting her ever again.

She choked down a sob and sucked in a long breath.  The screen swam as Felicity looked down at the phone and she had to blink to make out the picture.

_**Lyla:**   I need your help.  It’s Sara.  Can you meet me?_

That woke Felicity up from her daze.  Baby Sara was possibly the only person she could see herself mobilizing for right then.   She was out of her chair, texting a reply and muttering, “I’ve got to go,” before she had fully processed what she was doing.

“What? Where…?” 

Ray kept talking, but Felicity wasn’t listening any more.  Not that she actually _had_ in the first place. Listening that is.  But now she wasn’t even trying…not that she had been…gah, whatever.  What did it even matter?

Felicity gave a stupid excuse, one that she’s certain made even less sense than usual and rushed out.  It really was incredible that Ray hadn’t fired her yet.  He probably should have.

Her phone chimed again.

Lyla wanted to meet her at the Jitters around the corner.  It was an odd choice for her, but Felicity didn’t question it.  Mindlessly typing in an affirmative response and dropping her phone into her bag, she made her way to the coffee shop at her usual brisk pace.

When Felicity arrived at the cafe she was surprised to see neither Lyla nor Sara.  She glanced around and noticed the usual barista gesturing wildly for her to approach the pickup counter.  That was odd too. Everything about this seemeed strange. Not right. But Felicity _had_ always been more curious than cautious, so...

Plus, there was the fact that she was living her nightmare. That made odd...not so jarring.

 “You’re Felicity, right?” Barista Boy asked with a bright smile. Was he naturally that happy or was he ODing on espresso?   Usually, it was pleasant.  Today it was grating. She just wanted to find out what was wrong with Sarah, fix it, and...

God, Felicity had no idea what she wanted after that.

Felicity noded slowly. She might have been weirded out if she weren’t so damn numb. Though, she picked up Lattes here at least 5 times a week, so they probably _should_ remember her name.

Still, her brain may not be up to her usual sped, but something felt off. 

Besides the, ya know, _everything_

“Your friend paid for your drink and said you’d be by to pick it up.”

 “My friend?” Felicity asked, trying for nonchalant, which was easier than usual given her, well, numbness. She tipped her head to the side and reached for the Latte.  No harm in picking it up, right?  Though she would _not_ be drinking from this cup.  No siree.  

Foggy.  Grieving.  Not brain dead.

“Yup,” the peppy college kid answered.  “The pretty brunette lady you’re sometimes here with.  The one who just had the baby.”

Felicity felt her shoulders relax and she sighed, actually managing a small, _relieved_ smile.  She was just being paranoid.  That was good. No strange conspiracy here.   Just coffee.  She took a grateful sip of the Latte.

“Of course, did she take the baby to the bathroom?”  Felicity asked, glancing toward the back of the cafe.

“Oh no, she didn’t have the baby today,” was the cheerful reply that had Felicity snapping her eyes back to kid.  Would it be too weird if she spit out her (most likely drugged) coffee? 

“And she said to give you this.” Barista Boy produced what looked like a Jitters gift card in a sealed envelope with Felicity’s name scrawled across it.   “Is it your birthday or something?”

“Or something,” Felicity muttered under her breath.   “Thank you.” 

Taking the envelope, she turned it over in her hands as she stepped away from the counter.   It looked like Lyla’s hand writing. Taking a deep breath, Felicity opened it and found a Jitters card (surprise surprise) and…behind it a key card to the hotel down the street with a room number scrawled across the back in sharpie.

Felicity had her phone in hand and had hit speed dial for Oliver before she stopped to think. It wasn’t until she heard his voicemail message that she even realized what she had done. 

Oh God.  Oh God. Oh God.  Oh _God_. 

She went from numb and distant to having her face drenched with tears in 2.8 seconds flat.

Somehow, Felicity managed to get out of that café without stumbling too badly or having a full-fledged panic attack.

The Latte went straight into the garbage bin by the door.  By the end of the block, she had actually gotten herself together enough that she could dial Digg and find out why _and if_ Lyla was asking Felicity to meet her at a hotel room. Though, her fingers shook at she did.

John answered the phone with a short, “Did you get the key?”

Felicity hadn’t been expecting that.  The surprise, somhow, helped her steady herself. “Yes...?”

“Good.  See you soon.” 

And then he hung up on her. 

John Diggle God _damn_ hung up on her!   This had better not be a way for Digg to pull her back into Oliver’s ill-fated crusade.  The very crusade that got him ki—

Nope, not thinking about that.

Because, walking more quickly now, Felicity’s tears had dried up.  The overwhelming grief and sense of loss was replaced with anger. It felt...kinda good actually.  Definitely, the least sucky phase of grief so far. She had a lot of emotion to vent and, at the moment, John Diggle was do just fine.

^^^^^^^^^

 

By the time Felicity swiped herself into the hotel room, she had whipped herself into quite the lather.  If she opened that door and Sara was nowhere to be seen, if they had used that little girl … Felicity swore to _God_ there would be hell to pay!

She tried to slam the door open, but damn hotel room’s doors were so fracken quiet it held no satisfaction. 

Inside were Digg and his ex-wife.  No Sara.  And they most certainly did _not_ look like two people whose infant had just been kidnapped.

Immediately, Felicity went on the attack. “What the hell is this, John!?  I told you I was done.  Without Oliver, I’m done!” 

And...crap, there came the tears again.  All Felicity wanted to do is get a nice loud voice going, make her position crystal clear, but...all that came out was a cracked whimper.  And those sobs...the frantic uncontrollable, _overwhelming_ sobs weren't far behind.  She could feel them welling up inside her chest. Frak it all. 

Instead of letting John and Lyla have it, Felicity found herself covering her mouth with her hand, trying to push those sobs back down.  She was not doing this.  She _hated_ losing control like this, _especially_ in front of people. Besides she was _angry_.  Oh _why_ couldn't she just stay angry?

Squeezing her eyes shut, Felicity cleared her throat and tried one more time to do this without breaking into pieces.  “Where is Sara?  If she’s—”

John stopped her rant (or breakdown. Who knew which way she was going to go?) by striding forward and clutching her arms, his firm grasp and stead voice, somehow, grounding her, “Felicity, you need to sit down.”

Okay, maybe, that didn't ground her. _Maybe_ , Digg's calm as frak tone and condescending demand helped in a completely different way.  Rage filled Felicity again. Thank you, John Diggle. That was _exactly_ what she was looking for.

 Felicity lashed out, yanking out of his (rather strong) grasp, “I don’t want to sit down!  You will tell me what’s the _hell_ going on before I...”

Damn it! Why was her voice breaking again? Why couldn't she stay in control for one solitary second? 

Plus, these mood swings were making Felicity dizzy.  She felt like she was losing her mind, she really did. She had never thought she was the sort of person who so broke when the man they were in love with...

John easily captured Felicity’s arms again and lifted her onto the side of the bed.   She hadn't even realized that she was falling. God, they hadn't even been together, they had barely kissed and she couldn't even imagine life without Oliver. She had survived Cooper's supposed death and she they had been _together_. How could this _possibly_ feel worse? It wasn't fair. It just wasn't _fair._

The fight drained out of her, leaving only sobs.  Felicity had no control left. There was no holding it in.

“Felicity, look at me.”

Digg's words came to her through the fog and she realized he was crouching in front of her, cupping her face. Felicity tried to do as he said, but found herself shaking her head, instead.  It wasn't as if she _wanted_ to lose her mind. Tumbling down a vast black hole was not exactly fun.

“Felicity!  Listen to me!” John hissed, louder this time.  “They _found_ Oliver.”

That... _that_ Felicity heard.

John's words broke through the fog and Felicity froze. As in every _single_ cell in her body turned to ice.  The words reverberated through her head and around the room.  But she was having a lot of trouble processing them. Believing them.

They _found_ Oliver? They found him.

Once Felicity had remembered how to breathe, she managed to whisper the question that was making her head pound, “Like they found his body, found him?  Or like Oliver’s _alive_ , they found him?” She didn't want to ask, but she couldn't afford to _hope_ , until she knew.

It took Digg too long to answer and Felicity felt herself start to shatter.  It seemed she'd let herself hope after all. She wasn’t sure if she was going to be able to find all the pieces this time. Why wasn't she stronger than this?

Finally, John puffed out a breath and looked over at Lyla.  “ _Alive_.  Barely, but…alive.”

Oh God.

Alive. 

Oliver was alive.

Did she actually dare to believe it? But it was the first thing that had _felt_ real since Malcolm Merlyn walked into the foundry with his vile words. Felicity felt like she could finally _breathe_ again.

Digg looked over at his ex-wife, now girlfriend, and Felicity followed his gaze. Her heart was starting to speed up, her whole body tingling as the numbness left her. It felt like she was coming back to life as well. Felicity met Lyla’s eyes and sucked in a deep breath. She could see from the other woman's expression that the news wasn't great.

But Oliver was _alive_. Everything else was just details.

“Tell me,” Felicity demanded with a calm she did not feel as she pulled herself up tall and forced herself to meet and hold Lyla's gaze. She had this. Whatever it took.

Lyla’s eyes were soft with understanding, which made Felicity think she wasn't putting on as good a show as she thought she was. But, luckily, Lyla's tone was all ARGUS agent as she said, “Five days ago, a man was brought to a hidden ARGUS installation deep in Nepal.  He had been stabbed clean through his upper abdomen and had appeared to have fallen from a significant distance.”

Felicity’s breath hissed and she closed her eyes, it fit Merlyn's story, but...it made her stomach churn. Swallowing, she motioned for Lyla to continue.

“He had severe hypothermia, which may have been the only thing keeping him alive.  After they warmed him up and stabilized his vitals as best they could, he was rushed into surgery.  It wasn’t until after he got out that they ran facial recognition software and found out it was Oliver.  A friend called me directly to give me a heads up.”

Felicity let Lyla's words flow over her, sniffing, wiping her nose with the back of her hand and not even caring of how gross it was.  “His condition?”

Again, there was that _horrible_ pause.  Couldn't Lyla’s just spit it out already? When she finally spoke, Lyla's voice dropped, became more sympathetic, kinder, “They tell me he’s holding on.”

Felicity huffed out a hysterical little laugh.  Of course he was. “Oliver's a fighter.”

“Hey,” Digg whispered, drawing Felicity’s eyes back to his face.  He smiled at her gently and wiped away a tear from her cheek.  Somewhere between the words 'Oliver' and "alive' Felicity had completely stopped caring that they were there. “Oliver’s a _survivor_.  Feel free to say I told you so.  I can take it.”

Felicity smiled in the first time...since _forever_ it seemed.  How long had she lived thinking Oliver dead? Had it been only days? Hours? It felt like forever and...

It felt like was finally waking up from that nightmare she was so certain this whole catastrophe was. Because Felicity could handle a wounded Oliver. It wasn't the first time and, God help the, she was sure it wouldn't be the last. This time might be bad, but....she gave herself a moment to let the hope wash over her.  With it she could feel herself becoming _her_ again.

As long as Oliver Queen was out there, alive, even by a hair string, she could do this.

Felicity squared her shoulders and sprang to her feet.  “When do we leave?”

“ _We_ aren’t going anywhere,” John told her with finality, standing as well.

And, yeah...no. That wasn't going to work for her.

Felicity sprang to her feet as well, her loud voice coming easily this time. “Oh no!  I’m not staying behind. I—”

“Relax, Felicity,” Digg assured, placing his hand back on her shoulder.  “ _We_ ,” he motioned to himself and Lyla, “can’t go anywhere.  This city is falling apart.  But we sure as hell aren’t leaving Oliver in the hands of Amanda Waller either.”  He said the last part with disgust.  Felicity could empathize there.

“We need to get someone from Oliver’s team there as soon as possible,” Lyla continued, scooping up a bundle from the other bed and handing it to Felicity.

Felicity took the bundle and...it was just nondescript pile of clothing topped with a box of brown hair color, a set of passports, and what looked suspiciously like her prescription contacts.  

Oh.

Okay, then.

“Ok, wow, so, um... _I’m_ going.”  Which, of _course_ , Felicity was going.  She was being left behind over her cold dead body, but she had kinda expected to have to put up more of a fight.  “And...I’m going, um, undercover as a soccer mom?”  Because the pile she was holding... _so_ not her clothing.

  And now that she thought about it, she’d never gone undercover without Oliver and Digg right there as back up.  The idea was rather intimidating.

Lyla chuckled, which was so incredibly reassuring. “Something like that.” 

Diggle crossed his impossibly big arms.  “We’re under the belief that Ra’s Al Gul thinks Oliver is as dead as the rest of us assumed.  It would be best Ra’s doesn’t find out otherwise until Oliver is back to full strength.”

Felicity nodded.  John’s assumption that Oliver would soon be “back to full strength” made something she hadn't even realized was still there untighten in her chest.  God, this was happening.

“We don’t want anyone tracking either you or Oliver until you’re back in Starling, safe and sound,” Lyla finished for John and really they sounded like they were still married as frak.

But more importantly...“I’m not really secret agent material,” Felicity confessed, clutching the (ugly) bundle to her chest.  

Lyla smiled, again, with that soft, gentle, comforting-the-widow smile, which...yeah, where had that thought come from? Lyle squeezed her hand and Felicity shook that... _odd_ idea free.   “You’ll do fine, Felicity.  I have a trusted agent to escort you to Nepal.   You’re just a concerned young wife escorting her daredevil husband back from a climbing exposition gone wrong.  It won't be too much on a stretch. Mostly just be yourself.”

Felicity almost choked. Or laughed. Seriously? A 'concerning young wife’ and her 'daredevil' husband.  “Yeah… _myself_ ,” she muttered under her breath, strating to feel dizzy again.

Digg smiled a little _too_ knowingly before squeezing her shoulder and bringing her eyes back to his.  “Felicity, you need to be prepared.   This isn't going to be a three day trip.   Oliver can't come back until he's back in fighting form.  It's going to take weeks or more for him to recover, if—”

“Don't say _if_!” Felicity hissed. She was prepared to take all the time they needed, but _ifs_...those she couldn't handle.

“When,” John quickly revised. “ _When_ he is ready to come home.” 

Felicity didn't think Digg sounded completely convinced and Felicity really needed his to be _completely convinced_. Lyla must have sensed things going off the rails and quickly broke in, “John will have to take over as the Arrow.   _When_ Oliver gets home, it can't be at the same time the Arrow returns.”

“But Digg’s terrible with the bow,”  Felicity protested before she could help herself, then bit her lip....hard...just to keep herself from going off on a diatribe about John and Roy's safety.  Because with everything that happened she was feeling ultra protective. But what Lyla said made a lot of sense.

And really, all Felicity wanted to do is agree to anything that got her to Oliver's bedside as soon as possible.

“Well, the Arrow may have a couple glocks hidden in his leather for a while.”  John gave Felicity a small smile.  “You worry about bringing Oliver back and let me worry about there still being a Starling City left when you do.  I'm feeling amazingly more motivated and a whole lot less distracted.”

Felicity felt a smile stretch out and take over her face.  That was _exactly_ what she had needed to hear. “Okay, let's get to this.”

Picking up the home hair dye kit, Felicity took a closer look and shuddering.  “My hair dresser is going to _kill_ me.”

 

^^^^^^^^^

 

Twenty-eight hours.   Actually, twenty-eight hours and thirty-four minutes if she was going to be precise.  That's how long it took for Felicity to get from Starling City to the hidden ARGUS medical facility hidden in the Himalayas.   That's how long it took for Felicity to slowly lose her mind.

One would have thought with modern technology, especially given that ARGUS was supposedly three years ahead of state of the art, they could have gotten there is less than a day.

After the initial rush to get Felicity’s hair dyed and her alias intact, it's been nothing but waiting.  Waiting for the plane to LAX.  Waiting for the connecting flight.  Sitting, _waiting_ during the 16 hour flight to Nepal and the arduous drive through an endless sea of rock and snow.

All Felicity wanted was to _do_ something and all she was allowed to do was _nothing_.

They even took her damn phone.  Who the hell goes to an airport without a devise?  Felicity sat next to a two year old tapping away on a tablet in the LAX airport, for God’s sake. 

Tech withdrawal, boredom and paralyzing anxiety were a dangerous combination.  It left all of Felicity’s restless energy channeled into tumbling, racing thoughts. 

What if Felicity was too late?   What if Oliver woke up and she wasn't there and he didn’t know where he was and he was scared.   Not that Oliver was easily scared.  So maybe it was a silly fear.  But maybe he would be.  Scared that is.  Oliver has been through a lot of trauma, maybe waking up injured in a strange place would set off some PTSD flashback thingy.

Or what if Amanda Waller found Oliver first and moved him to another top secret location and didn't let her see him and… Felicity had no idea why Amanda Waller would do such a thing but John and Lyla seemed to think Waller was a threat and she did kinda give Felicity the creeps so maybe it wasn't so farfetched.  And 28 _fracking_ hours, goddamn it.

But really those worries were the good worries.  Those were the ones that temporarily kept Felicity from her incapacitating dread that Oliver would be gone by the time she got there.   Not _gone_ like kidnapped by Amanda Waller gone.  Like _gone_ gone.  Like, oh God, dead, gone.

Lyla had made it clear that Oliver's condition was critical, his injuries worse than anything they had dealt with before.   But, of course, there weren't any details.  Details could possibly rain in Felicity’s overactive imagination, keep her from running through all her knowledge of anatomy and imagining the organs that could have been sliced open.  Kept her from closing her eyes and seeing that horrible sword that now sat in the foundry ripping through the man she loved. 

People died post-surgery all the time.   Just because Oliver made it _to_ surgery didn't mean he would make it home.  This was the real world.  There were post-op infections, cardiac arrest, and blood clots. 

Not to mention the fall.  Felicity couldn’t forget about the fall.  Merlyn said they found the sword on the top of a ravine.  A ravine so deep that a body would be _unrecoverable_.

What if there was permanent brain damage or a spinal cord injury.  Oliver could be paralyzed.  What if he never walked again?  He wouldn't be able to stand that.  And what if he never woke up at all?  What if after all he's been through and survived, Oliver slipped away all alone on a horrible frozen mountain in the middle of nowhere surrounded by strangers.

Three, two, one.   Nope, not enough.  Ten, nine… Oh the hell with it.   One hundred, ninety-nine….

Felicity took deep breathes and focused on her counting.   She'd gone from 100 to 1 innumerable times in the last day and from 1,000 to 1 twice. 

If only she had been able to go home and get her benzos.   Maybe she could have even gotten more than an hour of sleep on that endless, tortuous flight.  But Felicity hadn't been allowed to bring anything of her own with her.  No phone.  No tablet.  Not even some confidence boosting lipstick.  Nothing.   

No wonder she was going insane.

While waiting for her hair dye to set, Felicity had been allowed two calls.  One to Ray, telling him the dead “friend” wasn't so dead after all and she had to fly out to take care of him. The weirdest part was it was totally the truth.  Of course, they left out the part about fights to the death and secret assassins and hidden government installations.  Felicity ended the phone call quickly before she started to babble nonsense and screwed it all up. 

Her mother was told she was on a business trip and out of the country, unreachable for the time being.  And that was that.  Felicity’s phone was turned over to Lyla who would answer her texts and keep anyone from being suspicious.   Felicity was off the grid.   Her one tether to sanity on a good day, gone.

And today was _not_ a good day.

Well, it could be.  A good day, that was.   Felicity could walk into Oliver's hospital room and he could open his eyes and smile at her and tell her he was fine.  That would be the best day.  Maybe he could even say he was glad she came or that he loved her and that his near death experience was enough to convince him that….

Ok. Stop. Felicity needed to stop.   That line of thinking was as dangerous to her sanity as imagining the worst.  Because that scenario just wasn't going to happen.   She'd be lucky if Oliver woke up at all.

_Today_.  She'd be lucky if he woke up at all _today_.  Because he was _going_ to wake up.   Eventually. 

100, 99, 98—

“Felicity, you can get out of the truck now.”

She shook herself at the sound of Agent Thomson’s voice. “Oh yes, right,” Felicity stammered, internally blaming exhausted delirium for her brainlessness.   She couldn't remember the last time she had a good night’s rest.  Certainly not since Oliver left.   Maybe not since she met him.  

Felicity scrambled out of the oversized truck.  She must have missed arriving.  Maybe because she was expecting an actual building and not just a large steel door buried under a wall of rock and snow.  Oliver wasn't in a hospital he was in a goddamn cave.  Wonderful.

“It’s homier than it looks,” the agent joked, taking her elbow so she didn’t slip on the ice.  Thomson seemed to be a kind man, a good traveling companion, if quiet.  Not too much older than Oliver.  And why did Felicity compare everyone to Oliver?  She was so far gone.  

Thomson punched in a code with way too many numbers and the doors opened to a set of guards who checked their credentials.  The chrome hallway that Felicity was led down wasn't what she would describe as “homey” but it was a whole lot more high tech than she’d feared upon seeing it was carved out of a mountain. 

“Breathe, Felicity.”

It took her a minute to realize she hadn't said that to herself and she attempted to return Thomson’s reassuring smile as she hurried to match his long strides through the winding maze of hallways. 

“Are you supposed to be calling me ‘Felicity’?” she asked anxiously.   “Aren't I ‘Hannah Green’ wife to ‘William Green’?” Oh God, wife.  “Idiot adventurer who tumbled down a mountain on a joy climb.  Who came up the name ‘Green’ anyway?”

Down the hall, double-doors labeled “Medical Bay” loomed and Felicity heartrate and thoughts doubled in speed.

“Isn’t ‘Green’ a little on the nose?” Felicity continued only half hearing what she was babbling about what with her blood roaring in her ears.  “I mean with Oliver…” Oh crap, Thompson didn't know about the Arrow, did he? “I mean, that Oliver _loves_ the color green.  He named his club ‘Verdant’, didn’t he? Not that most people even know that verdant is a shade of green.  It’s really not that common a word.”

She was so far gone now that her hands had joined the flurry of words, whipping around like some sort of frightened bird.  Not even counting was going to stop her now.

“Felicity,” Thompson interrupted.  He paused before opening the huge double doors of the Medical Bay.  “It's going to be ok.   And Hannah and William Green are just for Customs.   Everyone here at ARGUS knows who he, and _you_ , are.”  

She clamped her mouth shut.   The pounding in Felicity’s ears was getting louder and she started to worry she might pass out.  Maybe she should have eaten something.

“Here we are.”

Before Felicity knew what was happening another door opened and she was ushered inside.  Everything stopped as her eyes quickly found the figure on the bed.  She gasped, one hand covering her mouth and the other clutching her middle as the tears starting to flow again.

“Oh God.  _Oliver_.”

She barely heard Thompson mumbling something about giving her a minute and shutting the door behind him as he left.

Oliver had never looked so still.  So ghostly pale.  Not even the time his heart stopped on that cold metal table in the foundry.

Felicity’s eyes immediately found the monitors, stumbling closer as she did.  The steady rhythm of the heart monitor was reassuring, but the machines…  God, the _machines_.  They chilled her blood.  Oliver, the most alive person she ever met, with a tube down his throat, tape covering half his face. 

Then there was the unnatural clikity clack of the ventilator.   The rise and fall of his chest would be so much more reassuring if Felicity didn’t know that machine was breathing _for_ him.

Her hands fluttered as they reached for him, needing to feel that he was really alive, but worried about what she’d find, that he’d be cold and…. Three, two, one, breathe.  Felicity’s fingers found his arm but jerked back when all she felt was tape and tubes.  She fumbled, eyes blurring as she tried to find a way to hold his hand and not disturb his IVs. 

Oliver’s left forearm was casted, elevated and secured from the ceiling with long cloth bandages and pulleys.  His left knee was similarly secured and in a brace from mid-thigh to mid-calf.

Felicity’s fingers tightened on his.  She didn’t even dare to hold his whole hand, though it was blessedly warm and dry and Oliver-like.  Though not really Oliver-like since his hand stayed limp and lifeless.  Sniffing, she carefully reached out with her right hand to rest over his heart, right below the Bratva tattoo.  She didn’t trust the monitors.   She had to feel his heartbeat for herself.

There it was.  Thump thump.  Thump thump.  

The tension drained out of Felicity’s shoulders.  Oliver was alive.  Thank her God or his or whoever.  He was _alive_.  Everything else they could get through.

“Well, hello there,” came an overly cheerful, British accent from the door.  Felicity jumped, removing her hand from Oliver’s chest like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

“I just, I’m sorry, I mean—”

The man in the long white coat ignored Felicity’s babbling (thank God) and went on talking like she had said nothing.  “You must be our miracle man’s family.  I’m Dr. Singh.”  He held out his hand with a smile.

Felicity took it and nodded, trying not to feel like a fraud, considering for the first time if it was fair that she was the one there.  Perhaps this was Thea’s right, but selfish or not Felicity wasn’t going anywhere.  

“Your young man has caused quite a stir here.  Remarkable.  _Remarkable_.  That he even survived to get to us is a marvel.  He’s a lucky man and strong as an ox.  He really shouldn’t be alive.”

The doctor was beaming, but all Felicity could manage was a semi- hysterical whimper as she squeezed Oliver’s fingers harder and choked down bile.

“You’ll want a rundown of his condition, of course.”

Felicity wasn’t sure she wanted that at all, but managed an, “umm hmm,” and a small nod.   

Dr. Singh rocked back on his heels and rubbed his hands together in excitement.  “Well, it seems your young man was impaled by a very sharp object, clean through his abdomen.”

“A sword,” Felicity supplied shakily, closing her eyes against the image of the weapon covered in dried blood on her workstation back home.

“Yes, yes, just so.  But this is the extraordinary thing,” he lifted Oliver’s sheet showing her his bandaged ribs, “the sword slipped under his 9th rib and managed to not so much as nick his liver.  If it had, he would surely have bled out, cold or no.  We did have to take out a small piece of his colon and part of his small intestine.  If it weren’t for his hypothermia, which I must say was incredible he survived on its own, he most likely would have been septic by the time we got him.”

“Septic?” Felicity asked, swallowing hard.

“A blood infection.  Very bad.  Yes, very, very bad.”

Felicity nodded.  Oliver was remarkable.  She smiled to herself, remembering him saying those words to her what seemed a lifetime ago. “Do you know who brought him here?”

Dr. Singh shook his head.  “No idea.  Though, they must have at least had ARGUS connections.  We aren’t exactly easy to find.  Who knows how long it took to get Oliver here.  He was dragged on a makeshift pallet and left at the front door.  Your young man had a guardian angel, it seems.”

“It seems so,” Felicity echoed, looking down at Oliver and putting that piece information aside to work through later.

“Oliver also has a fractured ulna, which we have set, and a dislocated knee cap with a torn ligament.  But again, it is astounding that he didn’t break every bone in his body.  There is evidence that he fell a good distance, but he has only scrapes and contusions to show for it.”

Felicity gazed down at Oliver. “He does have nine lives,” she murmured, pushing short sweaty hair off of his forehead.  How many of the nine were left?  Two?  Three?

“So no evidence of brain or spinal damage?” she made herself ask.

“Not according to the MRIs and we have him hooked up to an EEG.”  Dr. Singh pointed to another monitor showing slow moving, erratic waves.  “It measures brain current.  No abnormalities.  Of course, we won’t know for _certain_ until he wakes up.”

Keeping her eyes on Oliver, Felicity asked the question whose answer she had been dreading.  “Why _isn’t_ he awake?”  Her voice cracked at the end.  It had been 9 days since Oliver left Starling.  That was a long time to be unconscious.

“Oh, that’s our doing.” The doctor smiled.  “Medically induced coma to facilitate healing and all that.  It’s just about time for us to turn down the sedation and see if he can breathe on his own.”  He reached out and touched Felicity’s hand, giving her a warm smile. “We thought we’d wait until he had a friendly face to wake up to.  Bolster that will to live.”

Felicity smiled back.  Maybe Dr. Singh _wasn’t_ just a wakado more interested in medical abnormalities than actual people.

“Can we do it now?” Felicity asked, eager to see Oliver awake.

“Yes, indeed, my dear.”  Dr. Singh hurried out of the room, leaving Felicity no more than a few minutes with Oliver to gather her thoughts before a middle-aged nurse came bustling in, followed by the doctor and what looked to be a tech.

There was a flurry of button pushing and dial turning.  “You need to step back,” the nurse told her brusquely, pushing Felicity away so she could get to Oliver’s IV site and start to slowly peal the tape away from the tube in his mouth. 

Felicity watched warily, trying to maintain a balance between staying out of their way and being as close to Oliver as possible.   Her eyes darted back and forth between the medical staff and his face, looking for any signs of Oliver being Oliver again.

She didn’t know what she expected, but it wasn’t Oliver’s whole body jerking, followed by God awful choking and gaging. 

“Oliver!” Felicity cried, rushing toward him.

“Get back!” the nurse said more harshly this time, elbowing Felicity out of the way.  Then the nurse’s gloved hands wrapped around the tube and pulled.

Felicity stumbled back, losing contact and pressing both hands to her mouth to keep both protests and sobs inside.

“Nothing to worry about,” Dr. Singh reassured with a smile from the foot of the bed.  “This is an excellent sign that he’s ready to breathe on his own.  His body is merely trying to expel the tube.”

Oliver’s body seemed to want to expel the tube quite violently.  The nurse couldn’t pull it out fast enough.  As soon as it was free, the tech suctioned his mouth and a nasal cannula was placed over his face.  Thankfully the horrible coughing stopped and, even more thankfully, Oliver’s chest continued to rise and fall rhythmically.

“Excellent,” Dr. Singh proclaimed.  “His vitals look good.  Remarkable young man.”

While the nurse was busy cleaning Oliver up, Felicity risked her wrath by approaching Oliver again and taking his hand, watching expectantly as his eyelashes fluttered and his face relaxed.

“Then why isn’t he waking up?” Felicity whispered.

“Oh, it will probably take his body a small while to work through all the sedation.  The important thing is that he’s breathing well on his own.  Right now, your Oliver is just sleeping.”  He gestured to the EEG monitor.  “And you, my dear, need to rest as well.”

Great.  More waiting.

“Arnold,” Dr. Singh turned to the technician.  “Can you get…Felicity, your name _is_ Felicity, is it not?”

She nodded.

“Can you get Felicity something to eat?”

“No, that’s not necessary,” Felicity murmured, eyes glued to Oliver’s face now that the commotion had died down.  He _did_ look better.

Felicity felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Dr. Singh smiling at her kindly.  “You need to keep up your strength, young lady.  You know, Oliver woke very briefly after he arrived, before we intubated him.  He only said one word.  Do you know what that was?”

Felicity gulped. She certainly knew what it sounded like, but hope hadn’t been her friend lately.  So, instead, she shook her head.

Dr. Singh smiled knowingly.  “I think you do.  How do you think I knew your name?  Eat, my dear.  Then rest.  This boy has a powerful will to live.  I’d like to maintain that.”

All Felicity could do is stare after the doctor as he left.   Finally, the nurse pulled a chair up right next to Oliver’s bed and pressed her into it.

“You heard the doctor,” the nurse announced placing a blanket and a boxed lunch on Felicity’s lap.  “Eat.  Rest.  He needs you healthy.”

Felicity thought that this nurse, Beatrice, the tag said, must be very good at her job. 

Beatrice turned down the lights as she left, closing the door behind her.  This left Felicity and Oliver alone with just the bright lights over Oliver’s bed, illuminating his monitors. 

He murmured something in his sleep and rolled his head towards her.  Tears pricked her eyes and Felicity squeezed his hand.  By some miracle, Oliver squeezed back.

He was going to be ok. 

“Oh Oliver.”

He didn’t respond except for a slight twitch of his fingers, but that was _ok_.  It was _all_ going to be ok.  The relief and love that flooded her was overwhelming. 

Felicity brought Oliver’s hand to her face and cried.


	2. The Bright White Light

There was sharp, blinding pain. 

Then the horrible realization that he had lost.  He had failed Thea.  Broken his promise to Felicity.

Oliver’s life flashed before his eyes.  His father.  His mother.  Thea.  And finally, the one and only kiss he would ever share with the love of his life.  

It was over.  Oliver would never see her again and that was his greatest regret.

He was falling.  A rush of air and sky and wind and cold. 

Briefly, there was a moment where Oliver felt cold.  And excruciating pain.  He heard voices and he tried to call out through the agony.   But all he managed was her name.

When he was pulled back into the darkness he fought it, knowing it was the kind of darkness where thought didn’t exist.

Oliver was losing hope of seeing the light again.

 

^^^^^^^

 

When it did come, the light was blinding. It reminded Oliver of the stories of walking into a bright white light.  That and the suspicious lack of pain gave him the sickening feeling he was dead.  He knew he didn’t want to be dead.  That he had so much to live for.  But it was hard to remember…anything.    He was floating, warm, blissful almost.

The light was too bright for Oliver’s eyes, but he fought to open them just the same.  The feeling of someone clutching his hand and soft hair on his forearm caught his attention and brought his focus to the figure beside him.  Small hands were wrapped over his.  Her face turned toward him, eyes closed as she snored softly.

“F’licity,” Oliver breathed.

She hummed in her sleep, nuzzling her cheek against his hand as her eyelids fluttered.  Oliver smiled, feeling warmth and peace like he’d never felt before.

“Oliver?” Felicity murmured, opening those gorgeous blue eyes. 

He felt drunk, drunk like he hadn't been since those stupid, carefree, selfish days of his youth.  But this felt more like actual happiness.

“Hey.” Oliver’s voice sound scratchy and odd to his own ears.

For a moment, Felicity returned his sleepy smile, but then she seemed snap herself awake.  Her eyes opening wide, she sat up abruptly.

“Oliver!  Oh god, Oliver.   How long have you been wake?  You weren’t supposed to wake up while I was still asleep.” 

Felicity was a dizzying flurry of motion.  Her eyes darted over Oliver, hands fluttering and landing briefly on his forehead, cheeks, shoulder.   Gentle assessing touches, soothing touches, ghosting over him.

“I was supposed to be here when you woke up to…” Felicity continued her comforting babble.   “No, I mean...I’m sorry.  That makes it sound like I’m accusing you of doing something wrong.  You wake up any time you want to.  I mean, I wanted you to wake up as soon as possible.  I was just supposed to _be_ here.”

“You are here,” Oliver told her, confused, but not really minding.

That made Felicity smile one of her wonderful, private smiles, the ones that she seemed to save just for him.  God, Oliver loved those smiles.  He was so lucky that he got those smiles.   

“I mean I was supposed to be _awake_ … you know what?  Never mind.  I’m sorry I fell asleep.  I’m sorry.”

Oliver shook his head, feeling like he was moving in slow motion.   But Felicity kept talking.  He stopped hearing her words, but that was ok.  He was content to listen to her lilting voice and watch the expressions flit rapidly over her exquisite face. 

If this was death, then it really wasn’t so bad.  It was quite wonderful actually.  Peaceful and warm and Felicity.  Could Oliver really, after everything, have made it to heaven?  One would think the standards for getting in there would be a little higher.

Felicity had stopped talking and seemed to be expecting something from him, an answer of some sort.  So Oliver said the only thing that came to mind.

“Death is nicer than I thought.”

Felicity made an odd Felicity-like sound, a mixture of a giggle and a sob, her hand covering her mouth.   “Oh, Oliver.  No.  No.  You’re not dead—”

Oliver shook his head again because he remembered dying, remembered Felicity’s face flashing before his eyes in those final moments.  Yes, all evidence pointed toward him being dead.

“My Angel.  My Felicity,” Oliver slurred.  She was so beautiful.  “You are so beautiful.  The most beat’ful Angel in Heaven….”

But then a terrible thought occurred to him and Oliver tried to sit up, grabbing for her.  “Wait,” he gasped, his voice shaking. “Why are you here?  You’re not… dead?  Tell _me_ you’re not dead!”

“No!  Shhh.  Shh, no.” Felicity was shaking her head, tears on her cheeks.   She pushed Oliver gently back onto the bed and took his hand in both of hers.  “I’m not dead.  You are not dead.  _No one’s_ dead.  I mean, someone is probably dead somewhere, but no one we care about.  Well, no one we care about recently.”

Oliver narrowed his eyes at her.  If Felicity wasn’t dead, then she couldn’t be real. “You sound just like Felicity,” he whispered. “Beautiful, wonderful Felicity.”  But she wasn’t real.  He wanted to cry.

“Oliver, sweetheart, I _am_ Felicity.  I’m not dead and you’re not dead.  But you almost died, so you need to lie back for me and rest.”

He shook his head again, but couldn’t manage to pull back his hand from hers.  Didn’t really want to.  “You wouldn’t call me sweetheart unless I was dead.”  Oliver leaned back in the bed.  He was just so tired.  His eyes closed of their own accord.  “This must be heaven.  You’d call me sweetheart in heaven.”

He heard that laugh/sob thing again, only it was more of a laugh this time.  Then Felicity was raising his hand to her lips and Oliver forced his eyes to crack open.  He didn’t want to miss that.

“Oliver this is _not_ heaven.”  Felicity glanced around.  “This is closer to my definition of hell, a frozen isolated hell.  Wait, I meant that figuratively.  This is not hell.  It’s not.  If you were dead, you’d definitely be in heaven.  But you’re _not_.  Dead.  You’re alive.  Did I mention I haven’t slept much in the last week?”

As much as Oliver loved her babble, he couldn’t follow.  He was so confused.  “But my Felicity never called me sweetheart.”

Felicity groaned and rubbed her eyes.  “And whose fault is that, Oliver Queen!  You could have been ‘sweetheart’ for months.  Hundreds of ‘sweethearts’ and you have no one to blame for missing them but yourself.”

Oliver frowned.  Was this a test?  “Sthoory.”  It seemed like the thing to say.  Were his words getting more slurred?

He must have passed the test, even if his words had too many syllables, because Felicity stopped yelling at him.  She reached out and smoothed the frown lines from his forehead and said gently, “I think this is a conversation for later, when you aren’t stoned out of your mind.  Actually, all conversation should wait for later.” She smiled a half grin. “This isn’t how I imagined it would go when you woke up, you know.”

“Mmmm.  Sthoory,” Oliver said again, because it worked the first time and even if he didn’t understand anything at the moment, he understood that Felicity was stroking his forehead and it felt divine.  He lost the fight with his eyelids, sighing, “Hmmm, my Felicity.”

She just laughed quietly and he made himself look at her.  Oliver could stare at that soft smile forever.  He loved the way Felicity was looking at him.  He lifted his left arm to touch her—

What the hell! His arm was tied down.  He might not be thinking clearly, but why the _fuck_ was he tied up? Oliver put all his strength into breaking free—

“Hey, whoa there!” Felicity lurched over, grabbing both of his arms and holding him down.  “Stop!  Oliver!  You idiot man, you’re going to hurt yourself!”

Oliver stopped.   Not because she was holding him down, because he was pretty sure even in this leaden state he could overpower her, but because Felicity _was holding him down_ and she was really really close and it was really distracting.  He met her eyes.   He loved her eyes up close.  He could probably kiss her if he leaned up just a bit.

“Are you hurt?” Felicity breathed, not moving back or letting go, despite Oliver not fighting her.

He licked his rather dry lips.  “ _Nothing_ hurts.”  And that reminded Oliver that there was nothing left to lose.  He lunged up and brought his dry lips to Felicity’s soft ones. 

For one blissful moment she kissed him back.  Soft, wet lips dragging against his dry and chapped ones.  It was a sip of water in the desert.  A taste of Nirvana.

But then Felicity was gone, retreating to her seat beside him, laughing nervously and saying, “Those are some really great drugs they’re giving you.”

“No,” Oliver murmured, pulling at Felicity’s hand, trying to get her back.  Where was she going?  He liked her better where she was.

“Oh trust me, these are the good ones.  I’ve never seen you so out of it.  You’re just not used to being properly medicated when you’re hurt. “

“Feelicithy,” Oliver whined yanking at her hand, trying to get her to come back.  But she just smiled and brought his hand up to cup her cheek.  That was nice too.  Her hair was soooo soft.

Wait.  There was something off.  Something Oliver should have noticed sooner.  He frowned again. “Your hair’s…wrong.”

Felicity’s free hand flew to her long curls.  “Oh _this_.  Yeah, brown.  Not blond.  Do you hate it?  Not that I care or anything if you hate it.  It’s temporary and that was way too… anyway, what I was saying is that it is part of my disguise.”

Disguise? Not a word Felicity said made sense.  But there was something niggling at the back of his brain.  Oliver tipped his head.  “Is this your natural hair color?”

Felicity snorted.  “Honestly, I wouldn’t know.  It’s been so long since my hair was its natural color.   I’ve been dying it one color or another since I was a twelve.  The last ‘natural’ color I remember was a dirty blond slash mousy light brownish.”

Then it clicked in his head.  She wasn’t wearing glasses either.  Natural hair color.  Perfect eyesight.  “We’re dead.  _You’re_ dead.”

“Are we back to that? No, Oliver, I just dyed it—”

Oliver grabbed her hand, getting panicky now.  “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?  You’d tell me if you were dead too?”  Felicity couldn’t be dead.  He couldn’t have failed _that_ much.

“Of _course_ , I wouldn’t lie to you.”  Felicity was holding his hand with both of hers again, leaning forward.  “Oliver, listen to me.  You’re in an ARGUS Medical Facility in Nepal.  Lyla thought it best if I came here in disguise.  That’s it.”

Oliver’s eyes flew over her face, trying to look for clues that this was the truth. God, he _wanted_ it to be the truth.  “I can’t _think_.”  Why was it so hard to think?

“That’s the drugs, Oliver.  The pain medicine.”

Oliver’s eyes went to his arm.   IV.  ARGUS.  Waller.  Drugs.  Can’t think.  Can’t think.  Can’t think.  Tied down.  Not Safe.  Felicity’s here.  Not safe.

“Are you ok?” she asked gently.  “I think I should go get the doctor.” Felicity turned to get up and leave.

Can’t think.  Not Safe.  Not _safe_.

Oliver moved quickly, bringing his hand to his mouth and yanking the IV out of his arm with his teeth.   The pain was immediate.  Blessed pain.  It felt real.  He felt real.  He reached over and snapped at his other arm, freeing it from the restraint.

“Oliver!”  Felicity cried, spinning back to him and leaning over to grab his shoulders. 

Monitors were screeching and beeping.  Over had to get the wires off of him.  He had to get up. He could hear people coming.  He tried to grab Felicity and sit up—

Pain as terrible as he’s ever felt knifed through his abdomen and Oliver collapsed back on the bed.  A hospital bed, he could now see.  Maybe he wasn’t dead after all.  Goddamn fuck.  That _hurt_.

Felicity was screaming, crying.   Her hands were on Oliver’s chest, trying to push him back down on the bed.  “Help him! Help him!”

Then there were other hands holding him.  A hundred hands holding him down.  A needle in his arm and—

Oliver collapsed.  Against his will, he relaxed.  His muscles released.  Warm, numbing fog engulfed him within seconds and his eyes rolled back.

No, he didn’t want this.   The pain was better than this.  Desperately, Oliver reached out, “Felthity…”

“Here,” Felicity answered immediately, taking his good hand.  “I’m here, sweetheart.  I’m here.”

Oliver fought as he was pulled under again.  He didn’t want this.  “Donth go,” he begged, putting all the strength he had left into the hand holding Felicity’s.

“I’m right here.  Rest, Oliver.  I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

He didn’t want to rest, but Felicity was blurring.  He could barely make her out anymore.  His tongue was made of lead.  “Promith…Promith….”

“I promise, Oliver.  I won’t leave.  I promise.”

“Lobe you…”

 

^^^^^^

 

Felicity was shaking with adrenaline when Oliver’s breathing finally evened out into a drug induced slumber.  She collapsed into her chair with an uneven breath as she watched Dr. Singh examine him, first listening to his chest and belly, then carefully removing the dressing around his wound and probing to make sure nothing had ruptured.

Against her better judgement, Felicity glanced around Dr. Singh to look at the wound for herself and gasped, bile rising.  “Oh my God! The sword did _that_!” 

The wound, though clean and dry, thank God, was over six inches long.  That wasn’t a stabbing that was an evisceration!

“What, dear?” Dr.  Singh said, distracted, before looking over at Felicity’s face.  “Oh, no.  We had to lengthen the wound for surgery, to repair the internal damage.” He quickly turned back to his work, addressing the two techs who had run in to help when all hell broke loose.  “Arnold, Carmen, roll him, please.”

Felicity was silent as they expertly rolled Oliver just enough for Dr. Singh to inspect the exit would on his back.  This one was only 2-3 inches long and, again, dry.  Then the doctor stepped back and turned to her as Beatrice took over, brusquely pushing the doctor out of the way as she worked to change the dressing on Oliver’s back while the technicians lifted him.

Dr. Singh removed his gloves and turned serious eyes to Felicity.  “What happened here?  Did he wake agitated?”

“No!” Felicity hurried to assure.  “I mean, he was fine.  Well, fine for someone high as a kite.” Oliver had been rather sweet and adorable actually.  She probably should have called the staff sooner, but it was hard to remember that anyone else even existed when he was looking at her with such adoration.

“Oliver was coherent?” the doctor prompted.

“Yeah.” Felicity nodded.  “I mean, yes.  He knew who he was and who I was.  He seemed rather convinced that he was dead and this was heaven.  So maybe not _that_ coherent.”  Ugh.  Was that a bad sign?

But Dr. Singh’s smile was reassuring.  “What triggered the agitation?”

Felicity bit her lip.   “I don’t know if it was agitation, per sae.  Oliver just, he...” She wracked her brain.  There was a lot to process.  “He seemed upset at the idea of not thinking clearly.  I think as soon as he realized he was getting drugs he tore out the IV, then the pain must have hit him…” She had to look away, tears pricking her eyes when she remembered the look of agony on Oliver’s face.

Beatrice was finishing with the dressing when Dr. Singh turned to his nurse and told her gravely, “We had better put him in four points.”

At first, Felicity didn’t understand what was going on.  Then she watched in horror as the large women named Carmen pulled out thick leather cuffs and handed them to the Beatrice.  They could only be used for one purpose.

 Jumping from her seat, Felicity yelled, “What…what is _that_!”

“We need to restrain him so he doesn’t hurt himself,” Dr. Singh explained gently.  As if he was talking to a child.  As if Felicity didn’t understand _exactly_ what he was doing.

“The hell you will!”  Felicity snatched the… _manacles_ out of Beatrice’s hands, making the nurse startle.

“Ms. Smoak—” Beatrice began, indignantly.

But Dr. Singh held up his hand and tried talking to her his calm doctor voice.  Felicity found it extremely grating.  “We empathize with you.  We do, Felicity.  But you have to understand—”

“No!  You have to understand,” Felicity spit out.  “This man,” she gestured wildly at Oliver as she inserted herself between him and the others, “has been _tortured_.  He has been drugged and tied up and tortured.  Many, many times.  And he survived.  He can handle a lot of pain.  But I hope you can understand me when I say if you want to keep him calm, you will not do this.”

There was a moment where they all just stood there, everyone staring at Felicity wide-eyed.  She started to worry that the next person getting a shot would be her.  Then Arnold took a tentative step toward Oliver and Felicity growled a growl that would have made the Arrow proud and jabbed a finger at him. 

“Over my dead body!”

Apparently, she was coveting restraints as well.

But then Beatrice gave, what for her, counted as a smile and said, “Well then, I have work to do.” She removed her gloves with a snap.  “Let me know if you need anything, Ms. Smoak.” 

Then the nurse swept out with a small pat on Felicity’s arm, leaving her with only Dr. Singh to stare down.  It didn’t take long until he caved.

“If Oliver wakes up are you certain you can keep him calm?  If those stitches—”

“Yes, absolutely, yes,” Felicity rushed to reassure, so relieved she thought she’d collapse.

“There will need to be someone in here at all times,” Dr. Singh continued.  ”If you need to step out, someone will need to take your place.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Well then, young lady.   You win.”  The doctor turned to the two technicians.  “Arnold, Carmen, let’s take Oliver’s arm and leg out of the retrains and rest them on pillows.  Put up a guard rail on that side of the bed.  Let’s see if we can keep him steady that way.  I’ll see about dialing down his medication.”

Felicity swallowed.  “Thank you.  _Thank you_.”

Dr. Singh smiled at her.  “Why don’t you go freshen up while we’re in here getting your boy settled?  I’ll give him a PCA for pain, but it will take his system awhile to work through the medication in the injection.”

Felicity nodded gratefully.  She grabbed the small duffle bag that she had brought and that had lay, untouched, in the corner of the room since she had arrived.  She almost ran to the bathroom down the hallway, quickly closing the door behind her and sliding the lock home.  Concentrating on her breathing, she tried to center herself.  If her life was going to stay this chaotic, she really should take up meditation or something.

Moving to the sink, Felicity splashed water on her face and leaned on the vanity.   She took a moment before raising her eyes and meeting them in the mirror.

She looked _terrible_.  God awful home dyed hair.  Pasty skin.  Bags under her eyes.  This was the sight that had welcomed Oliver back into the world of the living. 

But he’d called her an Angel.  Called her beautiful.  Felicity let the warmth of that memory wash over her.

Damn, but he was stoned.

Shaking her head in an effort to clear it, Felicity opened her bag.  She’d love a shower, but had just promised not to leave Oliver’s side, so she had to get back quickly.  Instead, she freshened up the best she could, changed her shirt and her underwear, brushed her teeth and her hair, pulling it back into her trademark ponytail.  The ugly dirt brown was less glaring this way.  Then, because apparently everyone here knew who she was anyway, and her eyes burned to high heaven, Felicity took out her contacts and slipped on her favorite glasses.

Now, she looked more like herself.

Felicity took a deep breath and smiled a little.  She _felt_ more like herself.  The sandwich and nap must have helped.  And the yelling.  The yelling _definitely_ helped.

Well and, of course, the whole seeing Oliver alive thing, seeing his eyes open, his face animated as he talked to her.  It made this whole horrible week seem like a nightmare that rapidly faded with the dawn.  The disturbing images of a sword covered in blood and the sound of death proclamations were being replaced with memories of sweet, loving, adorable Oliver, all warm and fuzzy on a morphine drip.

But also Oliver vulnerable.  Insecure.  Scared.

Sometimes, Felicity forgot he could be those things too.   Sometimes, she was so busy thinking of Oliver as capable and strong and stubborn.   So so stubborn.   Bullheaded, even.  But noble and brave.   It was hard to remember that he was also broken inside.  Especially, when she was busy feeling hurt and rejected.  

Felicity stared hard at herself in the mirror.  Something was shifting, something clicking into place.

All her life, Felicity had been confident in her intelligence.   The word genius had been thrown around quite early.   She was used to being the smartest person in the room.    In addition, she knew she was a good person, a person who was kind, who did the right thing and tried to make the world a better place, despite having a criminal for a father and growing up on the Vegas Strip. 

Felicity also knew, that socially, she was a moron.  She was awkward and weird and too smart for her own good.  How did one make fiends when most kids couldn’t understand a word she said, never mind get her sense of humor?  And boyfriends…   Who wanted a girlfriend who was not only smarter than they were, but whose verbal diarrhea was a constant source of humiliation?

She learned to not care, to respect herself for who she was and play to her strengths.   Felicity fit in better at MIT.  Found people who understood her.   Made friends.   Had a serious boyfriend.  Which ended in his apparent suicide because of her mistake…so….yeah. 

Conclusion:  Felicity was a strong, confident, brilliant woman, as long as it had nothing to do with men.  Or people.  But, in particular, men.

Meeting Oliver had only strengthened this conclusion.   Felicity had spent the first two years after she met him as his partner and his friend, the girl who he relied on for her counsel and skills.   Her confidence bloomed with Oliver. Felicity loved the person she became with him.   It was no wonder her almost instantaneous crush grew until she was utterly in love with her best friend.   Her best friend, who she was completely aware, was waaaay out of her league.  

Daydreams and fantasies aside, Felicity never really believed she had a chance with Oliver.  And mostly, she was ok with that.   Ok with the place she had in his life.  It was a good place.  An important place.

Then there was the mansion and Slade and the _confession_.  And in few frightening, wonderful moments Felicity’s whole world shifted.  Until Oliver put the syringe in her hand and _that_ made so much more sense.

But it was too late.   Everything had changed.   It was no longer a world where Oliver would _never_ love her.  Now it was a world where he _could_. 

In some ways, it was all downhill from there.  Felicity started seeing signs everywhere that his feelings for her were more than platonic.  She began analyzing everything, over-thinking and second guessing.   It was a roller coaster of hope and rejection.  It was a killer for her confidence.

Then Oliver actually asked her out.  Her.   It was too good to be true.   Quite literally, it turned out _, too good to be true._

The rejection Felicity understood.   She was an old hat at that.   What she didn't understand is how Oliver could love her the way he claimed to and not choose her.   That was stupid and confusing.   It didn't make any sense.   There weren't a lot of problems Felicity couldn't figure out given enough time.  And confusion was not something she had to deal with for a prolonged period.

So the only conclusion that made any sense was that Oliver didn't love her.  Well, at least not the way Felicity loved him.  He couldn't.  Not if he could stay away.   Not if he could put everything else above them being together.  

But what Felicity was only now just realizing was that this was a false conclusion.   In her own fear and insecurity, she failed to see what was right in front of her.  That Oliver was just as afraid and insecure and confused as she was. 

And Felicity had given that scared, confused _stupid_ man complete control.  She had let Oliver make all the decisions in their relationship, every beginning and every ending.   Still believing she couldn't possibly be someone that Oliver Queen could love.   She had waited, like an idiot, for him to prove her wrong.  That he did love her.

What complete bullshit. 

Oliver was even less capable than Felicity of navigating a healthy love life.   And five years on the island of lost dreams had actually _improved_ those skills. 

Felicity had spent the last four months, waiting and praying, but not really believing, that Oliver would up and change his mind, would fight for her.  And, she lost herself in the process.

Why didn’t it occur to her to fight for him?  Instead of letting Oliver make stupid ass choices that not even _he_ fully believed in?   Felicity would never let him get away with this self-deprecating insanity in any other situation, so why did she when it was both of their happiness’ on the line.

It was going to _end._   Felicity was taking her life back.

 

 

^^^^^^^^^


	3. Miraculous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder, this story takes place after 3X9 (the Climb), so after Oliver tells Felicity he loves her then goes off to get himself killed. It’s also after 3x7 (Draw Back Your Bow) when Ray kisses Felicity and Oliver starts throwing things in the Lair, but before anything else happens between them (ray/Felicity). (Nipped that in the bud ;)

It was pain that woke Oliver the second time.  His knee and arm throbbed and there was a deep ache in his side.  He supposed this meant he'd survived after all.  

Oliver remembered the sword.  The fall.  Flashes of his family.  Of kissing Felicity. 

He remembered Felicity holding his hand and calling him sweetheart.

Blinking open dry and crusty eyelids, Oliver quickly scanned the room.  It was a hospital room, though how he got there he couldn't imagine.  But more importantly, in a chair pulled right next to his bed, was his Felicity.  

So that wasn't a dream either.

Sitting with her legs crossed under her and a text book open in her lap, Felicity smiled softly at him with her beautiful pink lips and met his eyes through her adorable Felicity glasses and Oliver was so relieved.  He was alive.  _She_ was alive.  And here.  It was almost overwhelming.     

Without stopping to think, Oliver returned her smile and reached for her.  And his Felicity, she came without pause.   Pushing her book aside, she leaned over him and took his hand in both of hers as she rose from the chair and settled her hip on his bed.

"Hey," Felicity whispered, her smile widening.

“Hey.”  Oliver’s voice was an uncomfortable croak.  He licked his dry lips and tried to clear his throat.  “So, not dead then?” He tried for joking, but what it come out as was reverent.  He had been certain his life was over and here he was, lying there with the women he loved leaning over him and kissing his knuckles.  It was incredible.

“What?” Felicity laughed.  “Don’t I look like an angel anymore?”

Oliver's breath caught in his throat and his smile faded.   “You always look like an angel,” he told her gruffly. 

Felicity lost her smile as well and the moment that stretched between them was almost too intimate, too intense.  Oliver wondered if he should regret his honesty.

Forcing a smile, Oliver squeezed her hand.  “Though, you are definitely less fuzzy around the edges.”

That earned Oliver one of Felicity’s big, joyful smiles and he couldn't help feel proud that he had put it there.

Then he went and ruined the moment by coughing, sending Felicity into an anxious flurry of movement.   She dropped his hand, since he needed that to not hack all over her, and pressed the button to raise the head of his bed.   But when Felicity leaned over him to adjust his pillows, Oliver reconsidered this being a bad thing.   

Felicity cupped the back of his head and brought a straw to his lips, commanding, “Sip.   Slowly.”

Oliver obeyed, watching her carefully the entire time.  He felt warm and strange.  Uncomfortable and amazing.   He had been injured, wounded, and tortured more times than he cared to count.   Scars covered a quarter of his body, yet no one had ever cared for him like this.

Just when Oliver thought it was impossible to love her more.

Felicity pulled away the water, and laid Oliver’s head back on the pillow with a final gentle stroke of his scalp.  “Sorry.  I'm sure you'd like more, but they told me you had to take it slow.  Just a little water at a time.  Since, you know, your innards were sliced, diced, and sewn back together.  Guess they need to make sure nothing leaks.”

She wrinkled her nose and bit her lip the way she does when she's not sure if she was too blunt.  Oliver wanted to laugh, but was too overwhelmed with emotion to do more than smile, licking his still dry lips.

Then he watched in fascination as Felicity’s beautifully manicured fingers swept into his cup, bringing out an ice chip.  “Here, this will help with the dryness,” she murmured, placing the chip directly onto Oliver’s tongue, her fingertips brushing past his lips in a swift caress as she did so.

It was intimate.  Too intimate. 

It stepped well over the boundaries they had built.   It was wonderful.  And wonderful was terrifying.  Wonderful always ended really badly.  Oliver cleared his throat more forcibly, pushing back the rising panic. 

“So, what happened? Where are we?” Oliver asked, becoming aware of an annoying tube blowing oxygen up his nose.  There was something to be said for being stitched up in the foundry and going home to sleep it off.

“We’re in an ARGUS medical facility, or rather a small medical wing in a secret hideout that's literally inside a mountain—Whoa there, buddy, what do you think you’re doing?”

Felicity grabbed Oliver's hand as it went to pull out the offending tube, but he ignored her grabbing it with his left hand, which was blessed free now, thank God, even though there was still an itchy cast from his forearm to the base of his fingers.

“Hey, I said stop!” Felicity grabbed for his other arm, which was still holding the tube.

“It's annoying, Felicity,” Oliver whined.  “I’m breathing just fine.  I don’t need this stupid thing.”

“That's not for you to decide,” Felicity reprimanded but, thankfully, didn't try to put it back. 

“You just got out of major surgery, Oliver.  And I promised that you'd behave.  Otherwise, the staff will have you in _more_ restraints not less.”  She gestured to his left side and carefully put his casted arm back on the pillow it had rested on.

Oliver frowned, finally looking around and taking everything in, his injuries, the bandages, the medical equipment.  “So, I guess this isn't heaven then?”

Felicity laughed.  “Not even close.”

She was playing with the fingers of his right hand and smiling fondly.  Oliver thought that maybe this was as close to heaven as he's ever gotten.  Wow, almost dying made him sappy.  Thank God he at least had the presence of mind to keep that particular thought to himself.

Trying to keep himself from going off like a lovesick idiot, Oliver smiled wryly and said, “In defense of my delusional ramblings about heaven and angels, I'm pretty sure Ra’s killed me.  My life flashed in front of my eyes and I fell…”  

Oliver drifted off, the images flashing through his mind once again.  Maybe this wasn’t a good idea either.  He blinked and Felicity wasn't part of a death flash, she was right there in front of him, though she looked pretty stricken by his stupid, impulsive confession.

“Well,” Felicity said after a minute, clearing her throat, “you didn't die, you're far too stubborn for that.”   She sent him another fond smile, but her eyes were shinning again in a way that threatened tears and Oliver wished he’d kept his damn mouth shut. 

“But you did fall,” Felicity continued.  “They think the snow cushioned your fall, leaving you with _only_ a broken arm and re-reached knee.   And, of course, a horrifying, should have been fatal stomach wound, that _would_ have been fatal it was a centimeter higher.”  She took a deep breath.  “You were born under a lucky star, Oliver Queen.”

Oliver almost told Felicity that _she_ was his lucky star and had to bite his tongue to keep that outrageous sentimentality from slipping out.  Instead, he asked, “How did I get here?”

“You just showed up on the front steps.   You must have a guardian angel as well.  One who was _not_ me, by the way.”

“You sure about that,” Oliver murmured, making her flush, which made his apparent lowered impulse control worth it.

Flustered, Felicity brushed an errant strand of hair behind her ear.  “I'm pretty sure I know I didn't build you a stretcher out of sticks and drag you over the mountains to super creepy spy cave.”

"It was Maseo," Oliver said quietly, realizing as he said it that it was the only thing that made sense.  Maseo was an ex-agent and an old friend.  Oliver felt a rush of gratitude that his friend hadn't been completely destroyed by the League.

“Who’s Maseo?”

Oliver blew out a breath.  He wanted to tell her, but it was just so _much_.  “Remember how I said I spent time in Hong Kong?”  He glanced at her and saw Felicity nod.  He had told her that much on their ill-fated date.  “Maseo was a…friend from Hong Kong.  He's in the League of Assassins now.”  He scrubbed his face with his hand and leaned back, tired despite having just woken.  Should he keep going?  Tell her everything?

“Hey,” Felicity quieted him with a hand on his arm and a soft smile.  “You don’t have to tell me anything now.  I don't want you to exhaust yourself.” And Oliver marveled how well she understood him, how she somehow talked for him when he didn’t have the words.  “We have plenty of time.  Actually,” she leaned forward, saying with a grin, “you and me are stuck together until you make a full recovery, with nothing to do _but_ talk.  No Salmond Ladders, no computers, it will be an experience for both of us.”

Oliver narrowed his eyes, trying to decipher the important parts of her Felicity-Speak.   “When can we go home?”

“Well, Dr. Singh says a couple months, but knowing you as I do, I'm thinking more like a few weeks.”

“What?!” Oliver growled.  “We can't stay here for weeks.  That's ridiculous.   We need to get back to Starling.  Thea's in danger.  Ra’s—”

“Ok, ok, calm down.  No need to go all Arrow on me.” Felicity held up her hands as if in surrender, which was a laugh because it was usually a sign that she wasn't going to give an inch.  “Ra’s is exactly why we're not rushing home.”

Oliver snorted in disbelief again, contemplating pulling out more tubes and wires.

“No, _listen_ to me,” Felicity commanded and Oliver listened.  He always did, whether she realized it or not.  “As far as Ra’s knows you're dead.  You took the fall for Sara’s murder, so as long as you're dead he has no reason to go after Thea.   You show up alive and the League will be all over both of you to finish what they started.”

"Are you saying I need to stay dead?” Oliver whispered, wheels turning.  He scowled.  Was that the answer?   Would that keep everyone safe—?

“No!  No no no,” Felicity interrupted fervently, shaking her head.  “No.  Look, eventually Nyssa and the others are going to figure out you weren't the one to kill Sara.   To be honest, I don’t think Nyssa believed you in the first place.  Then we’ll be back to square one.  What we have now is a reprieve, time for you to heal.  Because when we get back, you need to be at full fighting strength.”

Felicity motioned to his broken body, making Oliver frown.   She was right.  She was always right.   Not that he had any desire to admit that to her.   He leaned back and stared at the ceiling.   Weeks here.  Doing nothing.  Shit.

Oliver sighed again and looked at their joined hands.  He couldn’t do this to her.   “Hey, you don't need to babysit me.  I can't make you sit here for weeks.  A Felicity without computers is like a day without sunshine.”

She blushed again and squeezed his hand.  Oliver was becoming a tiny bit addicted to holding it. 

“Don't you try to sweet-talk me, mister?   You and I both know you absolutely _do_ need a babysitter, otherwise you'll be sneaking out some crack that doubles for a window in this place and trying to hike your way home with one good leg and one good arm.”

God, she made him smile.  “I'm serious, Felicity.   You have a life back in Starling.”

“I do?”

Oliver raised an eyebrow at her.

“No, seriously, besides our ‘night time’ actives, which never fails to sound dirty, though, unfortunately, very much isn't, I'd love to know what you think I have that constitutes ‘a life’.”

This time, Oliver’s stomach flipped in a very unpleasant way.  God, was she really going to make him say it?   The image of Felicity and Palmer kissing was starting to play on repeat in his brain and make him nauseous.   He liked the images of falling off the cliff better.

But Felicity was looking at him expectantly and he had nowhere to run so Oliver swallowed and started, “Palmer…”

But Felicity just waved him off with a flick of her wrist.   “I took leave from work.   Told Ray a friend had a serious accident while doing something stupid out of the country.  Hey look, didn’t even need to lie.”

Oliver frowned.  He didn’t mean the job.  Last time he was there, it sure the fuck didn’t look like Palmer was _just_ her boss.  But on the other hand, Felicity wasn’t acting like someone in a relationship with someone else.  Not even a little.   And unlike him, she wasn’t a cheater.

In fact, Felicity was looking at Oliver like he was the only thing in the world that mattered, prattling on like there was nowhere else she’d like to be.  And God help him, that’s exactly the way he wanted it.

“Everything’s been taken care of.  My mother.  My job.  Your sister.  Digg’s got the team covered.   I was elected to watch over you and bring you home.   Lyla even got us _alias’_.”

Felicity pulled out a set of passports and held them up with a grin.  Hers had brown hair and were sans glasses and his slightly longer hair and beard.  But it was the same last names that made Oliver’s heart skip a beat.

Instead of mentioning _that_ , Oliver said, “Hannah and William _Green_ , really?”

Felicity threw up her hands.  “Right?  That's what I said.”  Her laughter was infectious and he joined her for a moment, breaking the tension.   “So, you see, you're stuck with me whether you like it or not.”

Oliver groaned, leaning back and closing his eyes.  He was still too selfish to release Felicity’s hand.  Of course, he wanted her there.  He _always_ wanted her there. 

“Oh, I like it,” Oliver muttered.  “I just don't think it's fair to you.”

And there were so many meanings behind that statement, so many layers.  For example, was it fair for Oliver to lay there holding Felicity’s hand when nothing had really changed?

“You are an idiot, Oliver Queen.  Do you know that?”

His eyes snapped open at that.  “Actually, I do,” he agreed with wry smile. 

Oliver often felt like an idiot when it came to her.  Always confused and messed up and never thinking straight.  He felt torn between what he wanted and doing the right thing, which seemed absurd because how do you lump anything that has to do with Felicity into doing the _wrong_ thing. 

But he had so much to atone for.  And Oliver knew he couldn't be both.   He couldn't _do_ both.   He couldn’t—

“No, Oliver, I really don't think you do.”

He wanted to argue.  Oliver wanted to explain about how fucked up he was in the head, but couldn't find the words. 

“Look at me,” Felicity commanded softly, seeming to understand that his thoughts were splintering in a very not good way.  So he did. Oliver focused on her because she was his north star.

“Oliver,” Felicity began slowly and deliberately, then swallowed and licked her lips.  She looked like she was starting to get upset.  “In your effort to keep everyone you love safe, you don't stop and think about how there are people who love _you_ that need _you_ safe, that need to take care of _you_.”

Oliver's breath caught and his heart started racing, “Felicity—”

“No, I'm talking now.   It's… It's selfish, actually.   You get the peace of knowing we’re home safe, but do you have any idea what it's been like for us this last week?”  Felicity swiped her own cheeks angrily.  “What it was like for me?  We thought you were _dead_ , Oliver.  I was given a sword with your blood on it.”

God, Felicity was crying again and Oliver felt like the worst kind of asshole.   He couldn't do anything right where she was concerned.  He reached up to catch a tear on his thumb.  She had shed too many over him.  

“I’m sorry,” Oliver pleaded.

But that didn't seem to be the right thing to say this time, because Felicity’s tears kept coming and she shook her head violently.  “I said ‘ _no talking_!’   It’s my turn.   Do you understand?”

Oliver nodded, feeling out of his depth.  Honestly, he had no idea what else to do.

“Good.   Now, I've been doing a lot of thinking.  You know, while I was waiting for you to wake up from almost _dying._  Again.”

Oliver winced.   His actions did seem pretty selfish when she put it that way.

“I've been thinking that when it comes to us, like you and me _us_ ,” she gestured her hand between them meaningfully, “you've been doing all the talking and all the deciding and all the _everything_ and now, _now_ it's my turn.”

Oh shit.  Oliver's stomach bottomed out.  Was she seriously going to force him to have a relationship talk while he was confined to a hospital bed?  “Felicity—”

“Oh no, I said it was my turn.  You let me talk or I’ll…” She looked around a little wildly.  Felicity appeared as freaked out as Oliver felt.  This was oddly reassuring.

Finding what she was looking for, Felicity triumphantly held up what looked like trigger device attached more of his medical…things.  “You know what this is?  This is a PCA.  Patient Controlled Analgesia.   You press the button to get more pain medicine.  And knowing you like I do, you're never going to press it so I'm probably going to have to do it for you anyway.  And I'm _not_ above using it to keep you quiet.”

Oliver didn’t miss the threat at the end of that ramble and, damn, if it didn’t piss him off.  He shot out his hand to grab the dreaded device out of her hand.   It would have worked too, since he's much stronger and faster than Felicity.  Unfortunately, as he lunged, a wave of severe, stabbing pain radiated from his gut, making him grunt and swallow down bile.

"Oh, Oliver, are you ok?”  Felicity immediately switched back to caretaker mode, easing him back and checking his bandage as he tried to catch his breath from the pain.  “See, I knew you wouldn't say anything if you needed more meds.”

Then Oliver felt a warm rush through his veins and the pain ebbed.   He realized Felicity must have pushed the button.

“Better?” She asked quietly, stroking his brow.

“You didn't have to do that,” Oliver bit out.

“Yes.  I. Did,” she said quietly, but deliberately.  “You are going to let me take care of you and you are going to listen to me.”  Felicity looked him over for a minute.  “How’s the pain?”

Oliver huffed out a breath.  “Better.”  And it was.  It was manageable again.

“Do you need more?”

“No!” he said a little too quickly.

“Oliver...” she warned.

“Please, Felicity.  It’s better, really.  I need to be able to think.  I hate…” Being out of control, not being clear, alert, sharp.  “Not being able to think straight.”

“I know,” Felicity said in a soft, warm tone and stroked his cheek.   The medicine must be affecting him again, because it took all of Oliver’s will power to keep from turning his head and kissing her palm.  “Are you feeling foggy again?”

Oliver reached out to touch her hair. “No halo.”  He looked around, then back to Felicity with a half-smile.  “Just Mr. and Mrs. Green in the hospital room.”

Felicity smiled back.  “Just enough narcotic to give you a sense of humor while retaining your wit.  Perfect.”

Oliver rolled his eyes at her.  “Hey,” he chided, more amused than offended.   The meds were making him want to just gaze at her again.

“You’re in the perfect state for this conversation.”

Oh, crap.   Again?

“You see, Oliver,” she licked her lips and in contrast to the frazzled Felicity of a few minutes ago, this one spoke in a confident, intimate tone.  “When you told me that you couldn't be with me _and_ be the Arrow, I let you.   I didn't think I had a say, which is ridiculous because I always have something to say.”

Oliver smiled despite this being one of the most terrifying moments of his life.

“I figured you'd made your decision and that was that.   I don't think I ever really believed I was in your league, not league of Assassins League, like you’re Oliver Queen the hot, famous, ex-billionaire—“

“No.  _No_.” Oliver interrupted as soon as he was able to decipher what she was saying.  His stomach plummeted at the mere idea of her thinking that way.  “ _Felicity_ —”

“It’s ok—”

“No. No, it’s _not_.  Now you listen,” Oliver pleaded, his heart breaking.  “You've never been _more_ wrong.   It's me who's not good enough for you.  Felicity, I'm so broken.   Everything good about me is superficial and everything about you is so deep and genuine and real—”

Then Felicity’s lips were on his and Oliver's brain froze.  Oh God.  So good.   He cupped her cheek, returning the pressure.  It was a simple, chaste kiss, yet it lingered too long to really be chaste, held too much emotion.   He didn't want it to end.  Ever.

But Felicity did end it, pulling back, yet still staying blessedly close.  “See, that's what I was too insecure to realize.   That you were just as confused and insecure and mixed up as I am…was.”

Oliver felt like he might cry and he didn't think himself capable of tears any more.  “No baby,” God, he had to explain why he had really pushed her away.   He was going to break Felicity’s heart again and he didn't think he could survive it.  “No, that's not why—”

“No, listen to me—”

Oliver shook his head.  He couldn't take much more of this.

Felicity took his face in her hands and she started to become a watery blur.  “I haven't finished telling you why I didn't fight for you harder.”

Oh _God_.  “I wouldn't let you—”

“No, I could have fought so much harder than I did.  I think, I think that I was protecting myself, guarding my heart.   Because I didn’t think….I just couldn't believe….I thought, if you really loved me as much as I…as much as you said you did that you wouldn't choose the Arrow over me.”

It was like another knife to the gut. “I wasn't—”

Felicity shut him up with another kiss and it was really distracting and she couldn't keep doing this.

"I realize I was wrong now,” Felicity whispered, keeping her tone private.  “I realize now, it wasn't that you didn't love me enough, that you were choosing—”

He couldn't take it anymore.  Oliver grabbed her face, “Felicity, _no_ —”

“But—”

“No, _you_ have to listen now.”  Because Oliver couldn't let her feel like this.  He couldn't possibly let her think this way a second longer.  “I thought you understood.   The way that I love you… Felicity, I couldn't _conceivably_ love you more than I do.  I would never choose anything over you.  I chose…” Fuck, he really was going to cry. His hands were shaking.  “You have to understand. I can't live in a world that you are not in.   And my _soul_ cannot survive a world where I am responsible for your death.”

“Oh, _Oliver_ ,” Felicity tears were a steady stream over his thumbs as he stroked her cheeks.

This time they surged together, meeting in what Oliver was sure was the most emotional kiss he'd ever experienced.   He tasted her lips and her tears and maybe one or two of his own.   It was less chaste, more desperate.  Felicity tasted amazing and the way she kissed with her whole self… Oliver was really starting to worry that there was no coming back from this and that only made him more frantic.   

Felicity pulled back, gasping for breath, swiping the tears from her face with her forearm and smiled at him beatifically.   Oliver wished he could return it, but his thoughts were spinning.  Christ, he was afraid.

“The thing is,” Felicity murmured, rubbing a thumb over his lips making his eyelids flutter.  “The thing is, Oliver, you think you are responsible for all these deaths.   But…but I _know_ you.  I know you will always do _everything_ you can to keep me safe.   I _know_.  It could never be your fault.”

Oh God.  How does she do that?   How does she find the perfect words to flip everything around and touch him in places he didn't think were even alive anymore? 

"Yousee, I chose this life,” Felicity continued passionately.  “I chose this life with or without you.   I chose this life so I'm _going_ to be in danger.  So if my life is going to be short, I want it to mean something and I want to be happy.  And it won't be, not without you.”

Oliver was breathing hard.  He could feel any resistance he had left in him shatter, “but—”

“Oliver, I'm choosing you.   I love you with everything I have.  I—”

 He couldn't take it anymore.  With a groan, Oliver pulled her forward, ignoring the wires and tubes and the stupid distant pain.  He buried his good hand in her hair, sending the ponytail holder flying, and slanted his mouth over hers, giving her everything he'd been holding back for months, years, doing everything he could to show her with his lips and tongue how precious she was to him.

Felicity grounded him.  Made Oliver feel like an actual human being.  Her love…he was so grateful.

She moaned into his mouth and it was the most wonderful sound.  She had both of her arms wrapped around Oliver’s neck and was giving as good as she got.   His Felicity.   How could he have ever imagined being with anyone else?  How could he even conceive of going on without her? This really felt like the point of no return.   Like as bad a decision as this might be, he couldn't _not_ be with her now. 

Oliver left the kiss first this time, easing out of it and pressing several short kisses on Felicity’s lips, until he finally rested his forehead against hers, sucking in great gasps of air, not able to believe she was right there sharing his breath.

"Baby," Oliver murmured, “I need you to understand, this is still really complicated.”

"I know," Felicity whispered back, running her nails through his short hair in the most delicious way.  “I know it's complicated and I don't care.   And you know what? I don't care what you decide.   It's my turn.  I'm deciding for both of us.  We _are_ together.”

Oliver sucked in a breath and tried to tell her she could stop.  That she won.  He surrendered.  But all that came out was a croak.

And his Felicity kept going, twisting him even further into knots.  “The only thing that could make me leave now is if you don't love me.  Can you say that?  Can you say that and make me believe it?”

Oliver almost laughed.   “You know I can't.”

Felicity pulled back just enough so that she could meet his eyes with the full intensity of her gaze.  “So that's it.  No more nonsense.  I'm done.   I'm not going anywhere.   I chose us.   Do you understand?”

“Yes.”  Oliver couldn't believe her.   Was there anyone else in the world like her?  “God, yes.”

Felicity beamed with pure joy and that smile… it was worth everything.   Oliver kissed her again, gentler, but with all the intensity of his feelings for her.

When he pulled back, he ran a thumb over her wet lips.    As incredibly right as this all felt, anxiety still churned in his gut.  “Felicity, I… I'm still scared,” Oliver confessed.

He saw Felicity’s eyes fill with tears again, but she was looking at him as if he had just given her a gift.  “I know.  I am too.  We’ll just, we’ll figure out the details later, ok?”

Oliver just nodded because what else could he do?  He was emotionally exhausted and elated and in pain and he almost died and the most deadly group in the world wanted him dead and he was so goddamn in love.

“I love you,” Oliver told her, because he thought maybe he forgot to do that.

"I know.  I love you too.  And, wow, you look exhausted.”

“Mmm.” Oliver leaned back against the pillows and let his eyes fall closed for a moment, hoping Felicity would fuss over him a bit little more.

"Don't fall asleep yet, sweetheart,” Felicity warned as she rubbed a finger over Oliver’s eyebrows.  He hummed in contentment.  “I know your doctor wants to talk to you.   I think they're starting to think I’m hiding something, since I'm the only one who gets to talk to you.”

“Fine by me.”

Felicity patted his cheek just hard enough to make Oliver’s open his eyes.  “Come on, just a few more minutes.  Dr.  Singh needs to talk to you.   He keeps calling you my miracle man.”

Oliver nodded again, because that seemed to be what Felicity wanted.    Then he watched her unfold herself and scramble out the door to get the doctor.  He didn't know who this Dr.  Singh was and he really didn't care.  Though right now, and maybe it was the pain medicine talking, but it certainly felt like something miraculous was happening.

 

^^^^^^^^^^^

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the medical nerds out there: The Dude who plays Ra’s Al Gul (Matt Nable) said in a recent panel that he stabbed Oliver in the heart. Well, I freeze framed it and it was nowhere near his heart. The stab wound is definitely in the right upper quadrant of the abdomen (though an argument could be made for it being in the lower right chest, through his lungs, but if that were the case he would have immediately been gasping for air). And, honestly, I don’t know how the sword could have missed the liver, but I made this as realistic as I could. I get kind of obsessive over medical accuracy.
> 
> I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. I love the end though my husband would have gagged at the schmaltziness. Which is why he's not editing it for me. 
> 
> Let me know what you think.
> 
> Emmy


	4. Worse Places

 

“For the hundredth time:  I.  Am.  Not.  Using.  A.  Fucking.  Walker.”  

Felicity bit her lip to hide her grin as Oliver growled at the poor beleaguered Physical Therapist who was tasked with the Herculean assignment of helping Oliver regain his strength while simultaneously restraining him from causing more damage as Oliver pushed too far too fast.

As Oliver alluded too, this was  _not_  a new scene.  Though, Ryan the PT had added Arnold the Tech to his sessions as back up.  This was probably a good idea because even sitting on the side of a hospital bed, with a cast, a brace, and a gut wound, Oliver could be quite terrifying.

Felicity tried to stay out of it as long as she could, focusing, instead, on the medical text on her lap.  Textbooks were the only thing she could find to keep her mind busy when she wasn’t engrossed in helping Oliver.

She wasn't allowed out of the Med Wing and had been reprimanded one too many times for playing with the medical equipment in an effort to find out how they worked.  (Felicity allowed Beatrice to think she was contrite and had stopped, but in reality, she had pretty much figured them all out and they didn't hold a challenge anymore.)

First, Felicity had read a surgery textbook about the procedure Oliver went through.  It came with a serious risk of vomiting.  She’d gotten through it, though, and had moved on to a book about Emergency Field First Aid.   It was probably going to turn out to be pretty useful information. Unfortunately. 

“Felicity.”

But mostly, her time was taken up with Oliver.   A bored, injured Oliver, turned out to be a very needy Oliver.

“ _Felicity_!”

She bit back another grin.   And actually, it suited her just fine.

"Yes, my love,” Felicity called back, her voice deliberately even.

Over the last week, Oliver had recovered enough to have the energy and the will to do a whole lot more than his body was ready for.  The combination of restrictions, pain, medical procedures, medication, and the massive change in their relationship resulted in some pretty spectacular mood swings for the poor man.

Felicity had affectionately placed them into two categories.

The first mood state was what Felicity fondly labeled the Caged Tiger.  It was heartbreaking seeing Oliver try to prowl the cage that was this small medical wing.  He had been told it would be at least another week,  _if_  he was good, before he could put weight on his left knee. 

It was a rule Oliver blatantly ignored.

He had agreed to use crutches, but Dr. Singh had nixed that idea because it put too much pressure on Oliver’s right side, where he had been skewered. 

That’s when one of the best medical teams in the world flew an intricate devise where one could walk while putting the majority of their weight on their upper body and arms.   A device Oliver oh-so-affectionately called “the walker.” Felicity had narrowly prevented him from hurling it across the room multiple times. 

The only help Oliver would accept was walking with Felicity supporting his left side.  And by “supporting _”_  she meant he’d let her take a tiny bit of the weight off, while wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pretending be leaning on her.  It was mostly for show, but it did take  _some_  weight off his leg and PT went much better with her supporting Oliver than Arnold, who mostly got growls. 

Also, Felicity as his human crutch had the advantage of cuddles.  Lots and lots of cuddles. Which brought her to the other side of the Oliver mood pendulum. 

This second mood state was a surprise and Felicity had really struggled with naming it.   Sick Little Boy would have worked well if it weren't for the fact that this Oliver was sooo damn sexy.  But whatever she called it, he was damn near irresistible in that state.

_That_  Oliver was sweet and affectionate and attentive.  He seemed to, no he  _definitely_ , loved Felicity fussing over him.  He was like a child who had been starved for love and attention for far too long.  He practical hummed with contentment when she tended to him.

Oliver had actually, also, been pleasant and charming to Beatrice’s nursing.  At first.  That was until Bea nixed the sponge bath he had spent all afternoon convincing Felicity to give him, saying it was too “stimulating.”  After that, the nurse got more Tiger Oliver than Sweet Flirty Oliver.  Poor Bea.

"Felicity, could you please tell  _Ryan_."  It was amazing how much contempt Oliver could put into someone's name.  “That I have had far worse knee injuries than this and went on to do a whole lot more than walk down a pathetically short hallway.”

Felicity carefully closed her textbook and set it aside.  Looking over at the men, she asked innocently, “You mean the time you completely dislocated your knee and couldn’t walk on it but refused to go to the doctor?  So, instead, you shot yourself up with lidocaine so the pain wouldn’t distract you and went out to do aerial acrobatics and engage in mortal combat?”

Oliver narrowed his eyes at her and gritted out, “Yes, actually, that would be exactly what I was referring to.”

Felicity met his angry gaze and blinked at him a few times for effect, before turning to Ryan and asking, “How much damage do you think Oliver did to his knee that time?” 

She couldn’t believe in poking the bear, but sometimes a point needed to be made.

Ryan looked pretty satisfied when he said, “I think it is safe to say that if Mr. Queen had treated  _that_  injury properly, this one may not have happened.”

The look Oliver gave the PT was frankly terrifying.  “And here I thought it was the fault of a 500 foot fall.”

But Ryan was made of sterner stuff than that (If he wasn’t he wouldn’t have made it through that first day) and came back with, “So you remember?  I figured you must have a head injury after all, since you refuse to take any advice about—”

“I’m wearing the fucking brace, aren’t I?  I haven’t put you through the—”

“Ok!”  Felicity flew out of her seat and around to Oliver before he could finish that sentence, slapping a palm over his mouth.   “Clearly, we need a break from PT.”

Oliver growled from beneath her palm and she was a little worried he'd bite her so she removed her hand.  Felicity snatched a sharpie off his bedside table, lifting his cast and underling, for the fifth time, where she had written “HAVE PATIENCE” in big block letters across his inner arm.  

When her efforts didn’t even earn her a smile, Felicity took in the strain around Oliver’s eyes and said, “Actually, I think we need a Percocet break.  Arnold, can you, please, send Bea in with some medication.”  Then she settled in, leaning on Oliver’s good knee and adding a growly face panda to the collection of doodles she had made all over his cast.

Did she mention she was bored?  Like, as in, going a little crazy  _bored_.   Oliver seemed to understand, because he barely made more than a token protest over her silly drawings.  He _had_ sounded a little put out when she had written “property of Felicity,” during one particularly long night.

Once Ryan and Arnold had finally left, Oliver hissed in her ear, “I don’t need a narcotic every time I get frustrated with those assholes.”

Cradling his broken arm in her left hand, Felicity lifted her face and met Oliver’s angry gaze.  “Look me in the eye and tell me you’re not in pain.”

Oliver’s jaw clenched.  “I am in pain.  But.  I.  Can.  Handle.  It.”

Felicity capped the pen and tossed it down, turning to face Oliver head on.  “Why?” she asked softly, resting her hands on his neck and running her nails through his hair the way recently she learned he liked.  “Why torture yourself?  You aren’t in the field.  You don’t have any criminals to apprehend.  There is no one to shoot and as much as you want to put an arrow in Ryan, he really doesn’t deserve it.”  

“That’s a matter of option,” Oliver muttered.

But Felicity knew she’d won when his Arrow eyes became his Puppy Dog eyes and he wrapped his arms around her waist.  “Just a Taser arrow?”

Felicity fought a grin.  “No.”

“The one with the rope—”

“Still no.”

Then Bea announced her presence with, “Mr. Queen.”  And Felicity started to back out of Oliver’s embrace. 

He didn’t let her go far, keeping his left arm firmly around Felicity’s middle.  “Nurse McCard,” Oliver returned.  They were on a last name basis since the sponge bath incident.

Bea held out a small cup with pills and the two of them stared each other down for what felt like a full five minutes before Oliver swiped up the pills and swallowed them down dry.   `Cause apparently real men don’t need water or some such nonsense.

Nodding with satisfaction, Bea left without a word, ignoring the evil glare Oliver fixed on her back.

Felicity rolled her eyes and pressed the straw from his water pitcher to Oliver’s lips before he could argue.  “No arrows for her either.”

“I think I’d go with a tranq arrow for her,” Oliver mused, but dutifully drank.

Felicity didn’t bother to hide a grin this time, just shook her head. 

Oliver pulled her closer and whispered, “But, Felicity, if we tranqed her, we could  _escape_.” 

The way he was looking at her now was playful, so Felicity allowed herself to laugh and be drawn into a full hug.  She lingered, just because she could, before pulling back just enough to give Oliver a quick kiss.  It was beyond amazing that they could do this now.

Gently, Felicity told him, “I hate being stuck here too.  Well, not being stuck here with  _you_.  I love being stuck here with  _you_.  Just not here, you know.  Somewhere else would be better.  Someplace less claustrophobic, and more…techy.  But if I had to be…”

Felicity broke off at Oliver’s wide grin.  “You know, you need to stop being so entertained by my babbling.  You’re only encouraging it.” 

That earned Felicity an actual laugh and another kiss.  Which really, really encouraged her.  “I’m fine with that,” Oliver told her in an intimate tone. 

They had most of their conversations in hushed voices, unconsciously afraid of prying ears.  Well, maybe not so unconscious for Oliver, who seemed paranoid that they were being spied on  _all_  the time.  “And for the record, you’re the only good part about being here for me too.”

Felicity beamed at him, because she just loved him that much, and smoothed her hand over the stubble on his cheeks.  “It’s pretty awful here, though, isn’t it?”

Oliver’s smile broadened, dimples appearing.  The tension in his face was easing.  The Percocet must be starting to kick in.  Felicity had discovered that of the various narcotics they had tried, this one worked the best on his pain, while making him the least fuzzy.  It was probably the only reason he consented to take it.

“I’ve been in worse places,” Oliver murmured, hooking his good leg around her thighs and reeling her all the way against his body.  “And in worse company.”

Felicity giggled breathlessly.  “You’re bored.”

“Not at the moment,” Oliver argued against her neck as he proceeded to lavish Felicity with soft nuzzling kisses. 

She tipped her head back and allowed Oliver to continue his gentle assault on her chin, teasing, “How does Percocet make you amorous?”

That earned her a gentle nip to her chin.  “It doesn’t.”  Another nip.  “ _You_  make me amorous.”  A soothing lick.  “The Percocet is like everything else in this place, unnecessary.  And, also, a way to control us.” 

There was something different in Oliver’s tone when he said the last part.  Felicity pulled back and saw a hardness in his eyes.  Dropping her voice even further, she whispered, “Why do you hate ARGUS?”

Oliver sighed and pulled her back into a close embrace, but this time it was a guise to whisper in her ear, “I’ve had some really bad experiences with Amanda Waller.”

“When?” Felicity murmured back, returning the hug as tight as she could without pulling at his wounds.  “Why are we so afraid of her?”

He seemed to take offence at that.  “It’s not fear, it’s…” Oliver pressed a kiss below her ear, but this time it felt more grounding than sensual.  “It’s hatred.”

“Oliver?” Felicity hissed, feeling herself tense up.  There was something here she needed to know. She felt it in her bones.  She forced herself be patient, scratching Oliver’s scalp in a slow rhythm as he buried his nose in her chin, just breathing in and out for long minutes.

Felicity had almost given up on him telling her anything, when his arms tightened and he whispered almost too quietly for her to hear, “Do you remember when I told you I was in Hong Kong for a time when I was away.”

She gave the smallest nod, one he could, hopefully, feel, but could barely be seen. 

In reply, Felicity felt, rather than saw, Oliver swallow.  “About two years after I was shipwrecked on Lian Yu, I was on a tankard and it was sinking, which is another long story that I  _will_  tell you sometime.”  He paused and seemed to be waiting for something so Felicity nodded again and he continued, “I was ‘rescued’ by Amanda Waller.”

Felicity tensed and jerked back to meet Oliver’s eyes.  That made no sense.  If Amanda Waller found him after two years, why did it take him five to get back to Starling?

Oliver pressed a hard kiss on her lips and pulled her back into his tight embrace, whispering harshly, “You can’t react to what I’m saying.  They defiantly have cameras in here.”

Felicity swallowed, suddenly scared in a way she hadn’t been before, and buried her eyes in Oliver’s shoulder.

“Shhh. Take a deep breath and don’t respond,” he instructed.   “Amanda decided I was an ‘asset.’  She wouldn’t let me go home.  She threatened my family.  She forced me…” Oliver took a steadying breath and Felicity did the same, fighting tears.  “She made me work for her, taught me how to torture.  She turned me into her personal assassin.”    

After he said it, Oliver’s arms tightened and he held her for long moments in a way that, given his injuries, must be painful, but Felicity was too busy turning the information over and over in her mind to protest.  That bitch!  So many things were…all her  _fault_.

After long moments of working to control her breathing and her tears, Felicity whispered fiercely, “Can I kill her?”

Oliver laughed and it was surprisingly joyous, making Felicity pull back startled.  It was only in that moment that she realized that Oliver had been afraid that Felicity would be disgusted by this new insight into his horrible past. 

Her sweet, wonderful, damaged man smiled at her and said fiercely, “I love you.”

It made Felicity’s heart clench, made words stick in her throat.

Then Oliver gripped her shoulders tightly and looked directly into her eyes, “But, no, you can’t kill her.  As long as I live, Felicity, you will never know what it is like to take a life,” he vowed.

That brought new tears to her eyes and Felicity gave him a lingering kiss as she gathered her thoughts.

When Felicity pulled away she cupped his chin and whispered just as ferociously, “I love you too and you are the most  _wonderful_  man… No, don’t you protest.”  She stroked his nape as Oliver shifted uncomfortably under the praise.  “But you have to understand, because of what we do, because of how  _I_  choose to spend my life, I may be in a situation where I  _have_  to kill.”

Oliver tensed immediately, shaking his head and it was Felicity’s turn to soothe him with shushes and kisses.  “In self-defense or some other untenable situation.  But if that happens, I won’t have you blaming yourself for me being in that position.  Because I’m telling you now, before it even occurs, that it won’t be your fault.”

He huffed out a tense, incredulous laugh, “You are something else, Felicity Smoak.”  Oliver pulled her in for a longer kiss, whispering just before he captured her lips, “I’m still not going to let it happen.”

This kiss was an affirmation, both of them intent on showing how much they meant to the other.  With every passionate brush of his lips, every stroke of his tongue, Felicity felt Oliver’s adoration for her.  She wondered now how she ever doubted.  Well, maybe if they had started doing  _this_ years ago she wouldn't have. 

Then again, maybe, Felicity should have known it would be like this.  Oliver was a man of action, not of words.  

Oliver sucked her tongue into his mouth and all the many many words in Felicity’s head disappeared in a puff of steam.  Then it was only tongues slowly twinning around the other, trying to draw each other closer and closer still.  It was breasts suddenly sensitive against his hard, if regrettably clad, chest.   It was blissful, liquid warmth building deep in her belly.

Felicity didn't know which of them drew back for air first, but when they did, they pressed their foreheads together as they gasped for breath.   The angry, worried tension of before had almost entirely dissipated, replaced by a tension of a completely different sort.

Oliver smiled at her.  “I swear the only thing worth doing in this place is you.”

Felicity huffed out a laugh.   “You did not just say that!  That sounded like one of my ridiculous double-entendres.”

But he blinked at her innocently.  “I don’t think it’s a double-entendre when that’s  _exactly_  what I meant.”  Oliver wagged his eyebrows dramatically and Felicity giggled, blushing. 

This was her new playful Oliver, nothing like the old fake, smarmy Ollie.  Just genuine and silly and sexy as hell.  

“Well, unfortunately for you, ‘doing’ me is also firmly on the doctor’s ‘no’ list.”

The reminder made Oliver throw his head back and groan.  “This place is a prison, Felicity.  Don’t let them tell you otherwise.  I know prisons and this is definitely one.” 

But Felicity could tell by Oliver’s tone that he didn't really mean it.  Trying to keep the mood light, she leaned forward and whispered in his ear, “Well, I  _have_  been tempted…”

“Really?” Oliver prompted, delighted.

“Ummm hmmm.”  Felicity placed a delicate nip on his ear, before whispering in her best approximation of a sexy voice, “I've been tempted…to sneak into the main part of the base and hack into a satellite uplink.”

Felicity expected laughter, but instead Oliver pulled back, his demeanor changing, his eyes bright.  “Nurse Hatchet goes to bed around 1,” he whispered quickly, “and Arnold doesn't come on until about five.  So in that window there's only Carmen and we—”

"Oliver," Felicity reprimanded, not even bothering to keep her voice low.  “I was joking.”

“Well, I'm not.   Felicity, there's been no news from Starling.  I need to know if Thea's ok.  And Digg and Roy—”

“Are all alive and well,” came a familiar voice from the door.  “Mostly just worried about you.”

“Lyla!” Felicity squealed, breaking away from Oliver to embrace her,  _so_  happy to see a friendly face.  

The older woman hugged her back warmly.  “And I come baring gifts.”  She opened her bag and handed Felicity a laptop.  

This time she did more than squeal.  Felicity honest-to-god squeeded.  Snatching up the laptop and hugging it to her, she bounced over to Oliver, beaming.   He laughed, but she couldn't feel insulted when he was looking at her like she was happiness itself as he wrapped an arm around her waist to hug her to his side.  

Felicity didn't realize what was happening until she saw a flash and looked up to see Lyla had snapped a picture on her phone. 

“Sorry,” Lyla said, though she grinned unapologetically as she looked down at her phone.  “But  _this_ ,” she held up the device, “will go a long way to alleviating Johnny’s fears.”

Oliver frowned, but Felicity could tell he was more embarrassed than mad.  Clearing his throat, he said, “It’s good to see you Lyla.”

“Not as good as to see you.” Lyla approached, giving him a careful hug and a kiss on the cheek.  “For someone who almost died less than two weeks ago you're looking amazingly healthy. John will be thrilled.” 

She held up the picture and Felicity took it as an opportunity to sneak a peek.  Wow.  They both looked so happy.  And the way Oliver was looking at her…wow.

“Can you send me a copy of this?” she whispered.

“Felicity!” Oliver cried, but Felicity just shrugged and Lyla laughed, nodding her assent.

“You’re going to have to wait to enjoy it,” Lyla warned.   “You can't access your personal accounts until you get home.  That laptop may have a satellite uplink, but I can't emphasize too much that you can't send any messages or go on any of your personal accounts.”

“Why the hell not?”

This time it was Felicity's turn to reprimand. “Oliver!”

He had the grace to look sheepish even as he defended, “Well, what's the point of a computer if we can't communicate with Thea and team?”

“The point  _is_ ,” Lyla answered, “that I've managed to have every piece of information ARGUS has on Ra's Al Gul and the League of Assassins downloaded to that laptop.” 

That made Oliver look at Lyla and the laptop with new respect.  

“But I'm sorry, we've gone through a lot of effort to keep you hidden.  Having stray email announce your resurrection to the world is not worth the risk.”

Felicity sent Oliver a hard look and he deflated, scrubbing his face.  “I'm sorry, Lyla.  This place is driving me off the deep end.”

Lyla grinned at that. “From what I hear, you've been giving as good as you get.”

“He always does,” Felicity commented, squeezing his shoulder.

Oliver didn't ever bother to apologize, instead asked, “Tell us how Digg is doing.  And the others.”

“Johnny is doing much better since he found out you were alive after all.”  Lyla grinned as Oliver shifted uncomfortably.   Felicity went to sit next to him on the bed, the reminder making her feel the need to be closer.  “He wanted to be here, but with half of Team Arrow unavailable, he insisted I come instead and make sure you're both ok.”  Lyla smirked.  “And I can see you're both  _more_  than ok.”

Felicity felt her cheeks warm; a feeling that just spread at the side-wise smile Oliver gave her.

Oliver cleared his throat. “We'd both be a whole hell of a lot better if we could get out of here.”

“Funny you should mention that.  Turns out quite a few people share that sentiment.  Actually, several of our battle-hardened, military-trained medical staff have threatened to quit if we don't get you out of here asap.”

“See!” Felicity hissed.  But damn if Oliver didn't just look proud, the stupid man.  Felicity couldn't resist slapping him on the shoulder.  That wasn’t injured after all. 

It might as well have been a love pat for all Oliver seemed to notice.  He was looking at Lyla and pleading, “Please tell me this means they're kicking us out.”

Felicity hit him again, harder this time.  “Were you terrorizing these people on purpose?!”

Oliver shrugged.  This time he took her hand, entwining their fingers so she couldn't keep hitting him.  “No, but I'm totally fine if that's the end result.”

Lyla seemed to find the two of them very amusing.  “It means that you are being moved to a safe house.  Your doctor, who by the way is the only one who doesn't hate you, Oliver, said that since Felicity is the only one you listen to anyway, he feels comfortable releasing you to her care.”

“That means you have to listen to  _me_ ,” Felicity hissed in his ear.

But Oliver just grinned.  “I can work with that.  How soon can we get out of here?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the wonderful response to this story (and my Build-A-Bear Story). It’s been a great welcome to the fandom and back to the world of fanfiction writing. I’ve been trying to respond to everyone, though sometimes it may take me awhile, `cause, you know, life hard. 
> 
> This chapter is more transitional than exciting, but I’d really love to hear what you think. Thanks so much for reading.
> 
> Emmy


	5. The Safe House

The trip was excruciating.  And this time, Oliver didn’t mean emotionally.

Oliver was used to pain.  His tolerance for it was incredibly high, born of years of injury after injury.  All of which he needed to ignore to survive.  He honestly didn’t know what it was about this time, whether it was fact that the truck that took them out of the Himalayans felt like a fucking carnival ride, jerking and bouncing them all over the place, or that he’d grown too used to that stupid PCA Felicity kept using on him, or maybe it was just that this gut trauma was the worst he’d sustained so far.

He would rather cut out his own tongue than complain, then give any ARGUS ass (Lyla excepted, of course) the satisfaction.  Oliver was certain Felicity knew by the way she stroked his hand and sent him concerned glances.  And, of course, how she gave him those damn Percocets every four hours on the dot.  That he took them without arguing was a dead giveaway that the pain was bad.

Maybe the biggest problem was that, usually, when Oliver was in this much pain he had something more important to focus on, something life or death. Trying not to die was usually a pretty good distraction.

Of course, Felicity was there to distract him now.  And that made everything different.

She was another kind of distraction all together, the kind that made the pain _worth_ enduring.  She was everything Oliver dreamed of during his five years in hell.  Redemption.  Love.  Acceptance.  Peace.  Only in his ignorance he dreamt about it with the wrong girl.

But Oliver couldn’t have known any better, he hadn’t met the _right_ girl.  Until Felicity he had no idea what being “in love” meant.  He thought he did.  He’d loved before.   But that passionate all-consuming devotion was something he just figured was hype the movies came up with to make girls simper and swoon.

That or Oliver was broken.  Not capable of that level of attachment.  It was a solid theory.  Many of his ex-girlfriends would attest to it.

He had tried.  After the Island, Oliver swore he’d tried.  He’d endeavored to _want_ to be with Laurel, because that was what was supposed to happen, right?  For the longest time it felt like he and Laurel were written somewhere and Oliver just kept getting it wrong, going off book.  But in the end, it just felt forced.

Oliver had been faithful and kind to Helena, McKenna, Sara… God, he’d tried so hard with Sara.  But she knew.  She understood better than Oliver that there was something missing.

And now, Oliver finally understood as well.  It wasn’t something he could create.  It wasn’t about _trying_.  It was there whether he wanted it to be or not.  It was a depth of feeling that hurt sometimes worse than any broken bone or sword through the gut.

But when it was good…

Being with Felicity, talking to her, touching her, kissing her…. It made Oliver happy in a way he’d never thought possible.  Happy like he’d couldn’t remember being even before the Gambit, in his stupid, irresponsible, hedonistic days.  It made his “happy” teenage years seem artificial and forced.   Thinking about it now, he didn’t think he had felt this good since he was a small child running carefree through the grounds of the mansion.

It was fucking terrifying. 

The moment that Felicity left his sight, if she so much as went to the bathroom, the panic would start to build.  It came even if she were still with him but drifted off to sleep, depriving Oliver of her constant chatter.  As soon as she was quiet, his mind became anything but. 

_What was he doing?_

_He was ruining her life._

_Oliver wasn’t allowed this kind of happiness.  He didn’t deserve it.  It wasn’t meant for him._

_He was going to bring Felicity down with him._

And then, the _truly_ dark thoughts would start.  About Ra’s and the Fall and how Oliver still had no idea how to defeat him.  If he couldn’t beat him in single combat, what happened when it was his small team against the entire League of Assassins?

Thea was still in danger and now Felicity was too.  Did being in a relationship with Oliver make Felicity an equal target with Thea to Ra’s and the League?  The idea made him want to claw off his own skin.

Part of Oliver wanted to scream at Felicity to get away from him, to do whatever it took to get her as far as possible from his monstrosity of a life. But she had made it clear that she wouldn’t go.  And God help him, he didn’t _want_ her to.  Not ever. 

Was this weakness on Oliver’s part signing her death warrant? 

But, Christ, if Felicity felt one tenth of what Oliver felt on being separated from her when he pushed her away…he couldn’t do it.   Couldn’t cause her that kind of pain.  Not again.

So maybe the trip was emotionally painful too.   Even if that part was self-inflicted.

And, maybe, the longest, bumpiest, most fucking uncomfortable journey this side of hell might be endurable if they were at least going home, instead of another ARGUS prison.  Excuse him, ‘safe house.’

Not that being alone with Felicity for the better part of the month didn’t sound like the opposite of hell, but even thinking that thought made Oliver feel guilty.  He felt like he was abandoning Starling and his family. 

Lyla assured them everything at home was fine.  Oliver was pretty sure she was lying.

Well, maybe not flat out lying, but certainly not telling the whole truth.  Starling was a harsh place on the best of days.  And they were making due with Diggle in the Arrow suit?  With his left arm in a pretend sling so he could justify using a glock instead of a bow and arrow?  Seriously?

Then Oliver thought that even though the team might be able to survive without _him_ , how were they making due without Felicity?  Oliver would have been dead 100 times over if not for her in his ear guiding him.  How were Roy and Digg supposed to manage without her on the computers and the coms?

 Oliver had suggested to Lyla that they go back home and he hide out in the Liar.  Felicity could do her thing and at least he could assist from base.

Felicity had laughed outright, stating Oliver would be suited up and out at the first 911 call she hacked into.  She wasn’t wrong.  And, so, that was that.  Oliver couldn’t even bring himself to suggest Felicity go home without him.  He was too much of a selfish bastard.

 It was a three hours in a rickety military truck to the city.  Then two hours in the back of a sedan in stop and go traffic.   Followed by two and half hours in the airport.  In a wheelchair.  A _fucking_ wheel chair.  The indignity of being wheeled through an international airport, in a third world country was just…too much.

And all because, apparently, it was easier to hide in plain sight than to go to the military base that ARGUS flew out of.  Some fucking committee that Oliver wasn’t allowed a vote on decided _that_ would be a bad idea.  How was a 14 hour commercial flight safer?  In first class none-the-less?  Fucking morons.

Oliver knew they were only in first class because his injuries couldn’t have handled coach.  Honestly, he could barely stand first class.  It was supposedly _comfortable_ up there.  Felicity certainly thought so.  She slept 12 of the 14 hours they were in the air, only waking when her watch told her it was time to give him his damn pills.

The damn pills that Oliver really didn’t need to be reminded to take, because sitting in the same position for that long was agonizing.  His leg and abdomen felt like they were on fire.  The Percocet was only barely taking the edge off long before they got in the air and by the time they were an hour into the flight he was fantasizing about that PCA.

When they stopped in a small clinic outside of Houston to have Oliver medically cleared, he gave only a token protest.  If he was honest with himself, he was worried that something was seriously wrong.  Because it fucking _hurt_. 

But 500 scans and 2000 tests later, Oliver was cleared to go, though not without a cortisone shot to his knee, two liters of IV fluids, and a long lecture about his need to eat and drink more regularly.  Apparently, the doctors would have preferred it if he spent the trip vomiting as well.

The last leg of the journey was much better, partially due to what must have been much stronger pain medication in that IV and partially (a much bigger part) due to being able to spend it lying in the back of an SUV with his head on Felicity’s lap.

That part was pretty fantastic actually.  Felicity was well rested and kept up a steady stream of conversation with Lyla, running her nails along his scalp.  The combination allowed Oliver to drift off and _finally_ sleep. 

The safe house wasn’t the hole-in-the-wall that Oliver was used to or had expected.  It was a cabin hours from civilization, but far from rustic.  Oliver had done rustic, like sleeping on the hard ground _rustic,_ and this was more the faux kind that vacationing city people paid good money for.  

Set in the middle of a large clearing, in front of a small lake, the cabin featured a front porch and a panoramic view of the mountains in the distance.

The building itself had two large rooms.  There was a fully stocked kitchen and open living room with a huge flat screen TV and DVDs, piles of board games and rows upon rows of books.  And, in the back, was a spacious and well-furnished bedroom.  Clearly, this is where ARGUS stashed its VIPs.  Oliver wondered if he should be flattered.

What there wasn’t was any device that could be used to make contact with the outside world or even _learn_ about the outside world.  No phone, not even a land line, no computers, no cable.  All they had was Felicity’s Laptop and Oliver feared that even that’s satellite uplink would be almost nonexistent.  There could be a nuclear holocaust and they’d be the last ones to find out. 

According to Lyla, there was a car hidden in a barn half a mile away.  For emergencies.  It was their only real access to the outside world.  And, the agent was quick to warn, the perimeter of the property was fully monitored.  ARGUS would know immediately of any comings or goings.

Oliver’s pain was under much better good control when Felicity, Lyla, and the male agent whose name Oliver didn’t bother to learn dropped him off on the couch to “rest.”  Which was good, because while Agent Whatshisname “checked the perimeter” and Lyla and Felicity talked on the front porch, Oliver took it upon himself to hunt down all the bugs and cameras this place was, most certainly, littered with.

Turns out there were three in the bathroom alone, which was just wrong.  Oliver had made his way through the bedroom and living room and was scouring the kitchen when—

“ _Oliver_!”

Being caught standing onto on the kitchen counter, removing a camera from the wine rack was probably not the place Oliver wanted Felicity to find him.

“What the _hell_ do you think you’re doing?”

Felicity looked shocked as well as furious.  But, to be fair, what did she expect?  That he’d nap quietly on the coach?

Oliver smiled at her.  He knew Felicity wouldn’t buy contrite, so he tried for a we-both-know-I’m-guilty-but- you-love-me-anyway grin.  Mostly, it earned him an eye-roll, but she was biting her lip to keep from smiling, a sure sign of softening.

He climbed off the counter as carefully as he could, in deference to Felicity, of course, not because jumping like he wanted to would have probably caused excruciating pain. 

Hobbling over to Lyla, Oliver handed her a fist full of crushed tech.  “We won’t be needing these,” he told her with a very genuine smile this time.

Lyla pressed her lips together, clearly suppressing amusement.  “Understood.”

Lowering his voice, Oliver asked, “Off the record, any other little presents I should be looking for?”

This time Lyla chuckled outright, her eyes bright as she whispered back, “Did you get the one behind the TV?”

“I did.”

“The mic in the shower head and the camera in medicine cabinet door?”

“Yup and yup.”

“The device in the base of the headboard?”

Oliver paused.  Damn it. “I’ll check on that.  Anything else?”

Lyla was shaking her head when Felicity interrupted with a, “What!?  No!  No more climbing and crawling around like a monkey.  I want you in bed right this instant, mister!”

Oliver turned to her, his face breaking into a smile so wide…well, he hadn’t known he was capable of smiling like that anymore.  It wasn’t until he met her eyes that Felicity finally realized what she’d said.  A blush traveled down her neck and somehow his smile grew wider.  God, he loved when she did that. 

Felicity’s mouth started to open and close like a trout and Oliver could see a really good babble coming on, but he cut her off with a salute and a wink.  

“Yes, ma’am!”

If it was possible, the blush intensified.  But to her credit, Felicity just pressed her lips together and defended, “You know what I meant!”

This was just too good.  “Oh, I do,” Oliver replied as suggestively as he could.  This might be the first time he could fully indulge in teasing Felicity’s verbal slip-ups.  It was glorious.

“Oliver!  You know, I didn’t… you need to….if you would—”

Still beaming, Oliver turned to Lyla and gave her a kiss on the cheek, “Goodbye, Lyla.  Thank you for everything.  I better, you know, head to bed.  I have my orders.”

“Oh and you live to obey,” Lyla retorted, giving him a quick hug.

“My motivation has never been this strong before,” Oliver quipped, making Felicity squeal in frustration.   Truly glorious.  “Give Sara a kiss from me and tell Roy and Digg to hang in there.  Don’t take too many risks.  We’ll be home soon.”

“Will do,” Lyla promised more seriously.

When Oliver turned to limp past Felicity and into the bedroom, she was glaring at him, her arms crossed and her ears red.  But he continued to grin at her until her lips softened and she started to squirm. 

Oliver squeezed Felicity’s shoulder and kissed her forehead before moving past her, but couldn’t resist calling out once he reached the door, “I’ll be waiting for you.  In bed.  Being good.”

Behind him, Oliver heard Felicity huff, “Are you going to do this every time I say something accidently sexual now?”

“Yup.”  Oliver popped the “P” and indulged in a cheerful chuckle as he made it into the bedroom. 

He listened Felicity apologizing and Lyla reassuring as he went to work finding that last bug.  This one was tricky, Oliver’d give that much to ARGUS.  It took him a while to work it free with the steak knife he’d absconded with from the kitchen (which may or may not remain hidden next to his bed tonight “secure perimeter” or not). 

He would have liked to have been done and in bed by the time Felicity finished with her goodbyes, but, unfortunately, that wasn’t in the cards.

“ _Oliver_ …”

Shit, that was definitely not from the other room.  Oliver peeked out from under the bed and saw a set of adorable toes taping impatiently.  He was in trouble.  The thought brought back his smile.

Oliver slid out from under the bed with as much grace as he could manage given the circumstances and grinned up at her.  “Just getting ready for bed, sweetie.”

Felicity shook her head, but she was smiling as well.  At least, it looked like she was smiling from down there.  “What’s wrong with you?” she demanded.

Oliver held out his hand to show her the bug.  Then gleefully crushed it, enjoying still having strength in one limb, at least.  He grinned at her triumphantly. “I didn’t really want an audience. Did you?”

Felicity rolled her eyes, again, before tilting her head and saying, “Ok, great.  Now let’s see you get off the floor, Big Boy.”Oliver tried to sit and instantly felt knifing pain through his abdomen.  He groaned, collapsing back onto the floor, muttering, “That’s an excellent question.”

He’d managed to roll himself onto his side when Felicity was beside him, helping him leverage his ungainly self off of the floor.  Oliver had no doubt he could have done it himself, and without tearing any stitches, but it was certainly more fun with her help.  

It was far from agile, but when Oliver finally regained his feet he wrapped both arms around Felicity and faked…well _exaggerated_ , a stumble, sending them both tumbling onto the bed.   The pain when injured parts got bumped…totally worth it.

Oliver managed to “fall” so that he was lying on top of Felicity, braced on his elbows so his injured side wasn’t pressed against her.  He grinned down at her, proud that he had managed to get her exactly where he wanted her, especially being an invalid and all.  This safe house thing was going to be a vast improvement from that goddamn base.

“So.  Wow,” Felicity murmured, adorably flustered.  “This is a… really nice bed.”

His grin widening, Oliver made a show of pushing at the bed next to her.  “That it is.”  He leaned in closer, so their lips were only a breath apart.  “Why, Ms. Smoak, I believe this is what you had in mind all along.”

“Not even.  You’re going to hurt yourself like—”

Oliver cut her off with his lips.  As much as he loved to hear a good Felicity ramble this was better.  Far better.  He lost himself in the gentle slide of her lips against his, glorying that as much as she protested, her response was always immediate and enthusiastic.   

It had been thirty-six hours without any privacy and nothing more than chaste pecks.  And those very rarely on the lips.  Oliver was intent on reacquainting himself with her fabulous mouth, parting her lips with his and sweeping his tongue inside with a slow, but determined stroke. 

Felicity met him stroke for stroke, one hand curling into his nape and the other kneading his shoulder.  Oliver hummed and slanted his head for a deeper angle, wanting as much of her as he could get.  He curled one arm over the top of her head, burying his uncasted fingers in her soft hair.  Oliver missed the glasses, but this did make for easier access.

The kiss was deep and passionate, but unhurried.  For once, they had all the time in the world.  And for Oliver, it came with blessed, wonderful thoughtlessness.  All there was was the taste, the smell, the feel of Felicity below him, surrounding him, against him.  The sounds of her moans, the pull of her lips and the tangle of her tongue.  In that moment, all was right with his world and there was nothing to worry about.     

It was better than anything.  So much better than stolen moments in a hospital bed encumbered by wires and nosy technicians.  Just endless minutes to explore every inch of her mouth like he’d always wanted.  And when Oliver finally pulled back to let her breathe, Felicity sucked in great gulps of air through bee-stung lips.  Her hair tousled and her blue eyes glassy and unfocused, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Oliver,” Felicity whispered, dreamlike.   

Her cheeks were rosy from his stubble and he smiled.  _Mine_.  Oliver descended on her ear and neck, intent on creating the same beautiful color on as much of her body as she would allow.

Felicity gasped and groaned as he sucked her ear lobe into his mouth, Oliver’s lips and tongue exploring her earring and industrial piercing like he had imagined a million times before.  And she groaned and arched toward him just as he’d hoped she would. 

Making his way down from her neck to her shoulder was awkward with his injuries, but thankfully Felicity was too far gone to notice any discomfort Oliver allowed to show.  Any pain was worth it. 

Lavishing kisses over the tops of her chest, where her breasts just peaked out from her tank top, Oliver managed, with much more difficulty than he would have liked, to settle between her thighs. 

It hurt.  As much as Oliver would have liked to say it didn’t.  It did.  But when his rock-hard cock finally settled into the cradle of her hips, Felicity’s warmth permeating his sweats and her yoga pants, the pain was so distant it may as well have belonged to a different person.

Felicity moaned, drawing out his name, “ _Oliver_ …” in a way that inflamed him to new levels. 

Desperate, Oliver brought their lips back together, immediately invading her gasping mouth with his tongue, kissing her hard, teeth clashing and tongues tanging as his hips began the slow rhythm that they had both been craving since…God, it felt like since the day they met.

Oliver was trying to decide if he was ok with their first time coming together being from them dry humping like teenagers.  In theory, it should have been completely inconceivable, but it was becoming more and more acceptable by the moment.

Felicity tore her mouth away.  She turned her head to the side and drew in great gasping breathes, giving Oliver perfect access to that piercing again.  The one that seemed to be so sensitive.

“Oh God,” Felicity wailed.  “We…we can’t… Oli- _ver_ …”

Christ, she was gorgeous.  “Oh baby, we most certainly _can_ ,” Oliver chuckled, laving every available piece of skin with his tongue.

Felicity started shaking her head somewhat desperately, her throat working.  “No.  You’re not cleared for sex.”

That made Oliver pull back to look her in the eye.  “Did you ask?” he murmured, delighted.  The image of Felicity asking the doctor if they could have sex was both utterly amusing and delightful.

Felicity flushed, if such a thing was possible given her already rosy glow.  “No!  I mean…not in so many words.”  She was worrying her swollen lips with her teeth and trying to twirl his too short hair around her finger.  It was very distracting.  Oliver felt like purring.

“Stop that,” Felicity snapped, dragging Oliver’s eyes back from her lips to her eyes.

“What?”

“That moany, sexy, archy thing you’re doing,” Felicity stammered, flapping her hand.  “You’re distracting me.  No, stop with the proud smile thing too.  The doctor said you couldn’t do anything that strained your abdominal muscles.”

“I’m not straining—”

Felicity slipped her hand between them and pressed it to Oliver’s abs, which now that he thought about it were tight and sore.  “You are too.  Look, hard as a rock.”

Well, _that_ was too good to pass up.  “That’s not my abdominal muscles, Felicity.”

That earned Oliver a well-deserved eye-roll and when he went to kiss her again, Felicity evaded.

“Fine,” he conceded.  Before Felicity could catch on to his plan, Oliver rolled them until she was on top.  “So, you can use _your_ abdominal muscles and I’ll just lie here.” 

Oliver grinned up at her and used his good arm to reel her back in for a kiss, before Felicity could use her crazy observational powers to realize that rolling maneuver just caused him a whole hell of a lot more pain than anything that had come before.

But as Oliver moved his good hand to guide her hips back into that delicious rolling motion and sucked her tongue back into his mouth, the pain again became a distant blur, easily forgotten.  Felicity seemed to be forgetting her protests, as well, if her grinding hips and sexy moans were any indication.  

Oliver gave into the impulse to slip his fingers under the hem of her shirt to caress the soft skin of her back. He was careful not to push too far, having no desire to spook her again.  But it seemed to set her off, instead, and Felicity kissed him harder, running her hands down his chest and finding their way under his shirt—

“Oh my _God_ , Oliver.” 

That wasn’t her sexy voice.

Felicity pulled away so fast it left Oliver dizzy.  Sitting up straight, she quickly pulled up his shirt and this time _not_ in a fun way.

“What?” Oliver panted, too startled to do anything else.

“You’re…you’re _leaking_.”

Oliver started to make another sex joke, but then realized Felicity was examining his surgical bandage. Apparently, it was draining again after being completely dry for almost three days.  Crap.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Oliver reassured gently.  Felicity looked positively frantic.  “It’s not bleeding.  It’s not surprising that it drains a little after all our traveling—”

“Travel.  _Travel_!”  Felicity was working herself up good now, climbing off of him and rushing into the bathroom, lecturing him the whole time.  “Oliver, you were climbing onto cabinets and under beds.  What were you _thinking_?”  She emerged with a wet wash cloth and a first aid kit.  “And then… then _this_ …” she gestured to the bed with him sprawled out across it.  “What were you thinking?  What was _I_ thinking?”

Just great.  Oliver tipped his head back and closed his eyes.  He could feel Felicity carefully pulling the surgical tape from around the bandage.  “I don’t know about you,” he muttered, “but I was thinking I love you and have wanted you for years and really I don’t feel like waiting anymore.”

Felicity paused for a second, but then continued to clean the incision, saying quietly, her voice shaky, “It doesn’t look too bad.  But we need to be more careful.”

_More_ careful.  Seriously? 

Felicity’s hands were soft and gentle as she put a new dressing on the wound, only inches away from the part of him that ached a whole lot more than the wound did.  And which really wasn’t getting the hint that they were apparently done for the night.

“There, that should be—“

Her soft whisper cut off as she finally noticed how close her hands were to the tent in Oliver’s sweats.  Felicity stared for long, agonizing, would have been awkward if it were anybody but Felicity, moments.  But since it was her, it was just adorable, and unbearably hot.

Then she seemed to shake herself out of it, jumping off of the bed again and fumbling with her medical supplies.  “I need to…um… get you some medicine and water.  And maybe that protein shake they said you should… I’ll be right back.”

Felicity fled from the room and Oliver groaned at the celling.  As much as her fumbling was adorable, he had a hard time reassuring her.  His anxiety was already starting to build again.   As soon as she left, the voice started again, making him doubt his sanity.

_You can’t have this._

_This isn’t for you._

_You didn’t think you could have this, did you?_

Doubt and guilt churned in his stomach.  Oliver hated it.  Five minutes of quiet and the demons inside him started to take over.

Felicity was gone long enough that Oliver started some of the meditative techniques Tatsu had taught him.  They were crap at controlling the thoughts, but at least it kept him from crawling out of his skin and acting like a lunatic.  The last thing he wanted was to scare Felicity with a full blown panic attack or flashback. 

She returned, looking rumpled and gorgeous and wet.  Clearly, she’d splashed water on her face.  The thought made Oliver smile through the anxiety spiral.  She’d done that thing where she transformed back into _his_ Felicity, exchanging contacts for glasses and pulling her hair back into a tight ponytail.  She wore it like a shield, but it only made him hotter. 

“Here,” Felicity handed him one of those awful energy shakes.  “The doctor said you need to drink this twice a day so you don’t lose any muscle mass.”

Those things tasting like crap, but the last thing Oliver wanted was hold up his muscle recovery so he nodded and went to sit up.  It was harder than it sounded. 

Felicity immediately had her arm around Oliver’s shoulder and pillows behind his back.  “Careful,” she reprimanded.  “Abdominals.”

“You’re very protective of my abs,” Oliver teased, trying to change the tone.  To bring back the playfulness of before.  He didn’t quite manage it.

Felicity smiled tenderly, placing one hand on his stomach to the left of the dressing and another on his shoulder as she helped him settle.  “They _are_ kind of my favorite.  I don’t want you to ruin them before I can fully enjoy them.”

They shared a soft smile as Felicity sat next to him on the bed, but the lighthearted mood of before was gone and Oliver couldn’t bring himself to tease her about her comment.  She handed him the shake and he dutifully drank, watching her eyes dance around the room as her hands fidgeted before settling on his t-shirt and twisting it between her fingers.  Watching her nerves, strangely, kept his from escalating. 

“I know I’m acting crazy,” Felicity began quietly, her eyes down.

And all Oliver could think was, if she was crazy, he was ready for the asylum, but he let her speak.

“I know I’m giving ridiculous mixed signals.”  Felicity took a deep breath and bravely met his eyes.  “But, Oliver… Oliver, I want you, I do.  God, I want you sooo much.  But you almost _died_ and I refuse to have to rush you to the hospital God knows how far away, with a car we aren’t supposed to use, when I can’t even call 911, just because I couldn’t wait to have sex with my boyfriend until he had healed from major surgery.”

Oliver had finished his stupid shake and was just beginning to get lost in the beautiful babble when his heart stuttered to a stop.

He must have been staring at her like a fish with his mouth open, because Felicity gave him an anxious look and asked, “What?”

Oliver swallowed, whispering, “Boyfriend?” 

That was where his brain had gone off track.  Besides, it was better to focus on this, then allow her to realize it wasn’t not having sex that had Oliver acting weird.  It was that he was a fucking basket-case. 

Felicity bit her lip.  “Is that ok?” But before Oliver could say anything she shook herself and squared her shoulders.  “No, wait, don’t answer that.  Because, yes, this is an established fact.  We have established that we are in a relationship, like more than a week ago and you just had your tongue down my throat so don’t you go all spazz over a label—”

Oliver cut her off, grabbing her hand, a huge smile spreading across his face.  He _had_ just had his tongue down her throat.   And it was _awesome_.   “I’m not protesting.  Not at all.  It just sounded—”

“Weird?” Felicity supplied, her face scrunched up and nervous.

God, she made him laugh.  Oliver entangled his good hand with hers and ran the fingertips from the casted one over her brow to smooth it out. 

“ _Amazing_.”

“Really?” Felicity looked at him suspiciously.

But it just made Oliver chuckle again, all that anxiety pushed into the background by Felicity’s blissfully soothing presence. 

Oliver nodded.  “Come here.”  He beckoned her closer and cupped her face with both hands (as much as he could with the damn cast anyway) and pulled her in for another long kiss.  This one was less wild, but still infinitely sweet. Unfortunately, it didn’t last long. 

Felicity pulled away, running her fingers down his cheek.  “You have the most distracting mouth… with words, I mean.  Well and other things, too.  I guess.” 

Oliver smiled and opened his mouth to tell her how distracting she was too, but Felicity pressed her fingers to his lips.  “No talking.   No other things.  No distracting.  Let me take care of you,” she pleaded.

And he melted. There was nothing Oliver enjoyed more.  “You already have,” he reminded her, gesturing to the drink and the dressing.

“Oh.  Yeah.”

“Unless you want to try that sponge bath?” Oliver couldn't resist.  It was a fantasy he just couldn’t let go of.

“Nice try,” Felicity laughed, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I don't think it's a good idea to get that started again.”  She lightly tapped his belly.

“Abs?” he lamented.

“Abs,” she confirmed.

Oliver sighed dramatically.  “I never thought I'd hate my abs.”

Felicity giggled.  “That’s ok.  I'll love them enough for both of us.”  She ran her palm over his stomach, making Oliver hum.

Then, as if recognizing her mistake, Felicity snatched back her hand and announced, “It's past time for your pain medicine.”

Oliver shook his head, stilling her from grabbing the pills.  “I’m fine, really.  They gave me the really good stuff at the clinic.”   Felicity narrowed her eyes at him.  “Honest.  No pain.  Just a little ache.” Oliver wagged his eyebrows, smirking.  “Well, not _that_ littl—”

“Stop, you,” Felicity reprimanded, smiling and shaking her head. “Fine, but I need you to roll over so I can change your other dressing.”

Oliver nodded and gingerly rolled over.  Of course, his goddamn abs started to burn.  Fuck, this sucked.  He hugged the pillow to him, resting on his front.   He didn’t want Felicity to guess he was already doubting the Percocet refusal.  

He was getting weak.  Shit.  He’d be addicted to those stupid pills by the end of this if he wasn’t careful.  Oliver tried to make himself relax and enjoy Felicity’s soft hands as she once again worked on pulling off surgical tape.

“No drainage, thank goodness.”

Oliver glanced over his shoulder and saw the back wound for the first time.  Just an angry red line.  It was far from the worst scar he’ll have.

But before Oliver could stop them images flashed and sensations tumbled, gaining speed.

_Ra’s standing over him on the mountain._

_The sword coming toward him._

_Sharp pain._

_Shock._

_Murmurs in Arabic._

_The cooper taste of blood._

_Being pushed._

_The knowledge that it was all over._

Oliver buried his face in the pillow, his heart racing. He tried to gain control, but it was too late.  The loop had started, worse than before.  Much worse.  He wasn’t in the safe house with Felicity any longer.

He was back on the mountain, frigid air on his face, the rock biting into his fingers while he climbed…

 

^^^^^^^^

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things today. First, I’m sorry for the cliff hanger, it wasn’t in the original plan but for some reason my Oliver POV chapters have just been getting completely out of control. This one went ridiculously long and had to be split in two so I could manage it better. This was the only place that made sense to stop at.
> 
> Second, the safe house is totally inspired by (stolen from?) the safe house Skye is sent to in “Agents of Shield.” I didn’t try to make it exactly the same or anything, but that’s the image that was in my head when I wrote it.
> 
> Please stop to add a comment or a kudos if you liked it. I find it inspiring.
> 
> Emmy
> 
> ps: I wanted this up hours ago, but was thwarted by a third grade government test. My frustration knows no bounds.


	6. Proverbs & Lists

Oliver glanced over his shoulder and saw the back wound for the first time.  Just an angry red line.  It was far from the worst scar he’ll have.

But before Oliver could stop them images flashed and sensations tumbled, gaining speed.

_Ra’s standing over him on the mountain._

_The sword coming toward him._

_Sharp pain._

_Shock._

_Murmurs in Arabic._

_The cooper taste of blood._

_Being pushed._

_The knowledge that it was all over._

Oliver buried his face in the pillow, his heart racing. He tried to gain control, but it was too late.  The loop had started, worse than before.  Much worse.  He wasn’t in the safe house with Felicity any longer.

He was back on the mountain, frigid air on his face, the rock biting into his fingers while he climbed…

The battle started to play in Oliver’s head, every detail from when he stepped foot on that mountain.  Every word.  Every parry and thrust.  As if he were there.  He could smell the crisp clean air and feel the chill of the breeze…

 “Hey, Oliver.  You’re shivering.”

Oliver knew this was his brain’s way of going over the plays, figuring out what went wrong, so he wouldn’t make the same mistakes again.  Which was fine, when he was in control.  But he wasn’t in control.  Sometimes, he just couldn’t hit the pause button.  Couldn’t get the scene to stop in his head.

Usually, it was best to just give in.  Let it play out.  Maybe he could glean some important information, figure out what to do differently next time he faced Ra’s—

“Oliver?”

He heard her voice as if from a distance, but it was Felicity’s soft hand on his back that allowed Oliver to turn his head toward her and blink his eyes open.  The images still played on in the background.   His heartbeat roared in his ears and he took deep breathes in and out of his nose to control his breathing.

Oliver must have missed Felicity finishing with his back, because his shirt was back in place and she was sprawled out next to him, her head on the other pillow and her face turned towards his.  It was something he had imagined a hundred times, waking to her lying next to him just like this. 

Seeing here there now helped.  God, it helped.

“Oliver, where’d you go?” Felicity asked quietly, but he didn’t have an answer.

The flashback was fading, but the fear that went with it lingered, now mixing with the sheer magnitude of _emotion_ he felt looking at Felicity next to him, stroking his back and whispering to him from the pillow next to his.  Oliver’s throat closed.  He didn’t trust himself to speak, so he just shook his head.

Felicity pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek.  “You can tell me anything, you know.”

_God_.  Oliver was such a train wreck.  Why couldn’t he just go back ten minutes?  When they were flirting and laughing and he was…normal?  When he could pretend he wasn’t a 29 year-old man who’d been to hell and back, but was almost reduced to tears by a kiss on the cheek?

“I’m sorry,” Oliver murmured, proud that despite the emotion in his voice he managed to say it without sobbing.

Felicity shook her head, her eyes soft.  “For what?”

For so many things.  For ruining their day.  For dragging Felicity down with him.  For being so damaged that Oliver didn’t know if he’ll ever be whole again.

But what came out was, “I failed you.  I promised…I promised you I’d kill him and I couldn’t and now—”

“Who?” Felicity asked, brow furrowed.

Oliver squeezed his eyes shut.  “Ra’s.”

“Oh Sweetheart, you didn’t—”

“I tried, I did, but I couldn’t do it.”  Emotion strangled him.  That same feeling of utter failure that came over Oliver when he had choked on his own blood on the top of that mountain washed over him.  “I failed you and Thea and—”

“No.  No.  Oliver, listen to me.”  Felicity cupped his face.  “You succeeded in doing the most important part.  All I wanted was for you to come back to me, for you survive.  And you did.  That’s enough.”  She pressed her lips to his and he tasted salt, but wasn’t sure whose. 

“It’s _not_ enough,” Oliver insisted as soon as she pulled back.  “I failed and now there is someone out there, someone I _couldn’t_ beat who’s going to go after Thea and… and now that we’re together…now that we’re together he is going to go after you.”

“Yes,” Felicity agreed calmly, smiling at him with a faith Oliver didn’t deserve.  “Maybe he will, but it isn’t the first time you couldn’t beat someone and it isn’t the first time they came after me.  It won’t be the last time either.  Next time you’ll win.  You always do.”

Oliver swallowed, bringing his hand up to stroke her cheek.  “Until I don’t.  What if this time I can’t?  What if I can’t beat Ra’s—?”

“Oliver—”

“Felicity, back when I couldn’t beat Malcolm he told me it was because I didn’t know what I was fighting for.  But this time I _did_ know.  I’ve never been more sure of what I was fighting for then I was when I fought Ra’s.  I fought to protect my sister and get back to you.”  Oliver blew out a shaky breath.  “And I still lost.”

Felicity blinked at him.  “Is Malcolm really the best person to take advice from?”

“That’s what you took from that?” Oliver asked incredulously.

Smiling widely, Felicity countered, “I got the part where you fought to get back to me.”

And, miraculously, everything was better.  Oliver even laughed.  “I’ll _always_ fight to get back to you.”  He wrapped the arm closest to her around her back and pulled her closer so they were nose to nose and confessed softly, “You make me so happy, but I’m worried that… no, I’m _terrified_ that being happy will make me lose my edge.  That I won’t be able to kill any more and it will get you…me… _everyone_ we care about killed.”

Felicity listened calmly and sweetly and completely without censure.  Then looked Oliver in the eye and said, “Oliver, that’s just dumb.”

Her response took him so much off guard that Oliver barked out a quick laugh, completely incredulous.

“Wait, no, that’s not what I meant,” Felicity rushed to amend.  “I didn’t mean it’s dumb.  I didn’t mean your _feelings_ are dumb—”

Fighting a grin, Oliver nodded, unable to believe her.  “But my thoughts are dumb?”

“Well…” Felicity scrunched up her nose.  “Yeah.  Sorta…no listen.”  She latched onto Oliver’s arm to keep him from backing up, though he had no intention of going anywhere.  “I mean, you’ve successfully saved me, you, and _everyone_ for two years without killing.  How can having more to live for make you weaker?”

Oliver smiled tenderly at her, wanting to believe her, wishing he could think the way she did.  “Because it’s a distraction, because…” Felicity didn’t look convinced.  He took a deep breath.  “ _Because A Man Cannot Live By Two Names_.”

Felicity pulled back at that, staring hard at him.  “Who… where did you get _that_ from?”

There was something about the intensity Felicity was looking at Oliver with that made him nervous in a completely new way.  “Someone once—”

“Who?  Your sansei?  Some Wiseman?   _Who_?”

Felicity was starting to get angry and Oliver didn’t understand why, but he felt defensiveness rise inside him.  “No.  I—”

“Is this where all the ‘I can’t be the Arrow and Be Oliver Queen’ crap came from?” So _that’s_ why she was so angry.

Felicity was sitting up now.  Using her loud voice.  “You’ve been making us both miserable for months because of some… _proverb_!”

Oliver pushed himself up onto his elbow, getting irritated himself now.  “This isn’t something I got from a fortune cookie, Felicity!  It makes sense!  It’s damn hard living a double life!”

“You don’t think I know that!  I do it with you, Oliver!”

He frowned.  “It’s not the same and you know it!”  Because it wasn’t the same.  And it was the same. And Oliver knew Felicity had a point, but she was frankly driving him insane at the moment and he was not fond of how she was dismissing his deeply held beliefs as stupid.

“Why?  Because I don’t run around on roof tops with a bow and arrow?  I tell just as many lies as you do, keep the same number of secrets.  Who do you think is up all night with you…?” Felicity trailed off, the heat going out of her for a moment.  “I did that thing again, didn’t I?

Oliver smiled at her from beneath his lashes, _so_ grateful for the break in the tension.  “Maybe a little.”

“But, seriously, Oliver,” Felicity continued more calmly, “Proverbs are what you make of them.  They all make sense and they’re all meaningless clichés.  You take from them what you can and leave what you can’t.  They aren’t _truth_ , not irrefutable fact.”

Oliver opened his mouth to argue with her and found he didn’t want to.  What he really wanted was for Felicity to convince him he was wrong.  “I’m listening,” he told her quietly.

Felicity gave him one of those pleased smiles that started in her eyes and lit up her whole face, the kind that made him preen. 

“Do you know the saying ‘To Your Own Self be true’?”

Oliver nodded.  “Hamlet.”

“Right.  People quote it all the time.  But it was part of this long speech that was basically contradictory, meaningless advice.  The point Shakespeare was making was the character was a pompous hypocrite.”

Oliver raised an eyebrow.  “So you shouldn’t be true to yourself?”

“No.  You should.  But sometimes, you shouldn’t.  Sometimes you need to think of others.”

“0….k…..”

“Don’t you see?  It doesn’t matter if the advice is given by a wise man or a fool, sometimes it makes perfect sense and sometimes it’s terrible advice?”

Oliver sighed.  Felicity was looking at him so earnestly.  “Sweetheart, I know you’re smarter than me but—”

Felicity bit her lip.  “Ok, different tact.”  She took a deep breath and crossed her legs in front of her.  “So, you say that ‘A Man Can’t Live by Two Names,’ yes?”

Oliver nodded.

“But people go by different names all the time.  They’re just different parts of themselves.  Father.  Brother.  Friend.  CEO.  Ex-CEO.  Student. Hero… Boyfriend.” Felicity gestured to him with a grin and Oliver couldn’t help but return it.

“It’s that easy, huh?”

Felicity shrugged.  “Can’t it be?”

Oliver took her hand, playing with her fingers.  “Baby, a secret identity is different than just having another role.”

“It’s not a secret from me,” Felicity stated as if that solved everything.

Oliver laughed out loud because in some strange way it felt like it did.  “So, you’re the only one that matters?”  She kinda almost was.

“No, but as it turns out… who doesn’t know?   That’s important to you, I mean?”

“Thea,” Oliver answered, looking away, sobering some.

“Thea.  Yes.  But no one else.”  Felicity cupped his cheek and forced Oliver to meet her eyes.  “So maybe the answer is to tell Thea and then everyone you care about knows.”

“ _Felicity_ ,” Oliver groaned, throwing his head back.  “We’ve been over this.  It’s too dangerous.”

Felicity tilted her head.  “Is it?”

Again, Oliver opened his mouth to disagree, but couldn’t come up with a single argument.

Felicity saved him by holding up her hand.  “Food for thought.  This wasn't my point.  I don't know how I got off on Thea?”

Glad for the reprieve, Oliver squeezed her fingers.  “Because you love tangents?”

“I don't know if it's so much I love tangents, as they love me.”

“I love your tangents.”  Felicity was looking distracted again so Oliver sat up, mirroring her position.  He took her hands, placing them palm to palm and lacing their fingers together (as he could with the damn cast anyway) before prompting, “You were saying.”

“Right.  I was saying…”  Felicity was giving him that love sick-look he adored.  She shook herself and said, “Right.  I was saying that you aren't two different people Oliver.   You're one person with many facets.  All week you've been flipping back and forth between Perfect Boyfriend Oliver and Angry Kick Ass Oliver and, sure, it may have seemed a little bipolar, but that can be blamed on the drugs and almost dying—”

“Perfect and kickass, I can work with that,” Oliver chuckled.   Though he certainly related to the bipolar part too.  

Felicity blushed.  “Well, yes, my point is…stop trying to choose between parts of yourself.  They're all you and I love every part of you.”

Crap, now Felicity had him tearing up again.  “Are you saying To Thy Own Self be True?” Oliver joked to keep from getting too bipolar again.

Her brow crinkled adorably.  “I don't think that was what I was say—”

Oliver laughed out loud, cutting her off by pulling her into a tight hug.  “You are a gift, Felicity Smoak, do you know that?”  Before she could respond he pulled back and captured her lips in a reverent kiss.  “How do you do that?”  He asked, shaking his head with amazement.  “Whenever I'm certain of something, whenever I feel completely stuck and backed into a corner, you manage to turn everything upside down and suddenly the world makes sense again.”

Felicity smiled a watery smile and wrapped both her arms around his neck, asking softly, uncertainly, “I do that?”

It broke Oliver’s heart that she even questioned it.  “Yes, Felicity, _you_ do that.   Only you.  Is it any wonder I fell in love with you?”  He punctuated it with a kiss.

Sniffling a little, Felicity confessed, “I wonder at it quite often actually.”

Oliver pulled her to him tighter, bringing them both to their knees (and thanking God for that cortisol shot) “Don't.  Don't ever wonder.”    

Slowly, he drew her back toward him, carefully pressing a kiss to her full pink bottom lip before sucking it between his.  Oliver wanted to worship every inch of her, starting with her luscious mouth.  He wanted to leave Felicity mindless and quivering, to never again to doubt the depth of feeling he had for her.

Felicity kissed him back, seducing his tongue into a dance with hers.  It became a celebration, quiet and intimate.  A celebration of finally getting to this place.  With each passing moment, each conversation, each interaction Oliver was actually beginning to believe this was happening.  That maybe this was going to last.  

Oliver was also beginning to believe that there could be no going back and that made the preservation of this relationship one of Oliver's top priorities.  It wasn't just his happiness at sake, it was Felicity’s.  And his sanity, it seemed. 

The entire thing was absolutely terrifying.

Gently pulling back from the kiss, Oliver stroked Felicity’s ears with his thumbs, drawing back with one…two… three close-mouthed kisses.  He had a new mission now, to make sure Felicity Smoak was completely happy and secure in his affections and her place on his team.

Oliver drew her back down to lie next to him, since frankly, his knee was starting to bother him, though he'd rather cut out his own tongue than tell her that.  Once they were lying side by side, nose to nose, he couldn’t resist a few more soft kisses. 

Then Felicity took over and started to nibble on his ear and he kind of lost track of what he had wanted to say for a few minutes.  When she sucked the lobe into her delicious mouth Oliver moaned. 

“Baby, you're making this rather hard.”  She pulled back and gave him a look of complete glee, but Oliver knew what Felicity was going to say and cut her off, “No, _not_ the same.  My double entendres are completely intentional.”  He cupped her adorable ass and pulled her in, showing her exactly what he meant.  

Felicity mewed, arching her neck and pushing her pelvis against his for one long moment, before, unfortunately, pulling back with a, “Sorry.”

“You don’t look sorry,” Oliver teased.  “Not even a little.”

Felicity's only response was a guilty giggle, which Oliver joined with a chuckle of his own and pulled her close for a slightly less tempting hug, enjoying the feeling of her flush against him with her head tucked under his chin. 

Oliver took a few moments to just enjoy the rise and fall off Felicity’s chest against his and her comforting warmth.  Her presence had banished, at least temporarily, the worries and fears, leaving him with a rare since of peace.  Again.

But there was something else Oliver needed Felicity to understand. “I couldn't done it without you,” he whispered.  

Felicity snuggled closer, her voice thick and drowsy.  “Which part?”

Oliver chuckled.  “All of it.   But I meant the being a hero without killing thing.  That was all you.”

Felicity pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes, giving him her disbelieving face.  “I was there, Oliver.   You stopped killing for Tommy.  Remember the whole ‘I started killing in my father’s memory, I stopped in Tommy’s’.”

He wasn’t sure he’d put it that way.  “Yes…” Oliver kissed her nose, because it was right there and why not.  “I stopped killing for Tommy.  I stopped all of it for Tommy.  I was prepared to live a life of a hermit to avoid killing.   You were the one that convinced me I could do good _and_ not kill.   Without you there would never have been an Arrow.”

Felicity smiled, running her nails gently through his stubble.  “That's not true.  You don't give yourself enough credit.”  But she looked pleased by the sentiment.

“No, I don't give _you_ enough credit.  I should have told you more.   I never even considered fighting without killing.  I didn't think I could, not until you made me believe it.”

“I always knew you could do it, Oliver. “ Felicity smiled and he could see happiness reflected in her eyes.  “Sometimes you get lost in the guilt and bad memories, forgetting inside is a good man.  It’s my job to remind you.”

Oliver pressed another kiss to her lips.  “That's what makes us a great team.”

“I thought it was because of my superior technical expertise.”

“Nah, that's just a bonus.”

Felicity laughed softly before sobering and saying, “You know, I knew then you could be the Arrow and be a better man.  I knew you could defeat Slade Wilson.  And I know you can do this now.  You can kill Ra’s and come back to me.  Still the hero.  Still the man I love.”

Oliver gave hers soft smile, but sadder this time.  “Killing or not killing, that I've got down.   But exceptions…exceptions are hard, Felicity.   The back and forth takes a toll.”

She nodded, understanding.   It seemed Felicity didn't have a reflex argument for that one.  Instead, she flopped onto her back and stared at the ceiling with their fingers entwined. 

Oliver didn’t really mind.  Despite everything he said he was starting to feel more hopeful than he had in a long time, since before Sara, before the bomb in the Italian Restaurant.   The memory of the flashback was fading and he almost felt like things could turn out ok.

He was starting to dose, lulled by the sound of her breathing and his, for once, relaxed thoughts, when Felicity turned back onto her side to look at him, announcing, “You know what we need?  A Three List.”

Oliver blinked himself back awake, wondering where in high heaven that brilliant mind was going this time.  “Three list?”

“Three List.”  Felicity smiled enthusiastically, clearly pleased with herself.  “You’ve never heard of it?”

Oliver shook his head.

“You know, traditionally it's a Three People to Screw List.”

Oliver's eye brows jerked to the ceiling and he sat up, fast.  To hell with the fucking abdominal pain.

“Couples come up with these lists of three people they are allowed to have sex with complete impunity, Iris and Eddie have—”

“What?!”  Oliver couldn't be hearing her correctly. “Excuse me?” 

“I can't believe you've never heard of it.  Given your previous _lifestyle_ ,” Felicity made a motion with her hand that made it clear what she thought of this past experiences.

“That was a long time ago,” Oliver defended, really hating where this conversation was going.  Really _really_ hating it.  How did they get from mutual love and respect to this?  He had whiplash from the turn around.  “I’ve never…what the hell is this?!”

Felicity shrugged, “Well, traditional they’re just for fun.  The list is people you find attractive but would never conceivably have a chance with.  Famous people like Chris Even or Scarlett Johansen.”

“Felicity, I would totally be able to sleep with Scarlett Johansson,” Oliver argued, because he was starting to feel pissy and mean and he enjoyed the way mentioning it made her face scrunch up.

“But I wouldn’t have a chance with Chris Evens?” Felicity challenged.

Oliver rolled his eyes. “No…Yes…If you actually met him and if he wasn’t happily married… and you know what?  What the fuck is this conversation?  There will be no 3 lists in this relationship, not for me and certainly not for you!”

And, Felicity, the little brat, laughed, as if she were genuinely entertained by all this.  “You know, Oliver for someone who was infamous for cheating on his girlfriend…in the past, I know.  But still, you seem hypocritically indignant.”

Rubbing a palm over his face, Oliver ground out, “Can you please stop judging me by the idiot I was before the Gambit.  I have not even come close to cheating since and I have no desire to do any such thing now.  And if you want some sort of list… just no.  You can’t have one.” 

Oliver knew he was starting to leave Rational Thought Land and it only made him more irritable.  Also, there was the fact that Felicity kept laughing.  Seriously?

But then Felicity cupped his face again and brought Oliver’s eyes back to hers.  “I don’t want to be with anyone else, either, sweetheart.  That wasn’t what I was getting at _all_.  But, wow, honestly, I would never have pegged you for such a jealous brute.”

Oliver deflated a bit.  Still frowning, he covered Felicity’s hands, holding them over his face, and confessed what he was sure was petulantly, “I never was before.”

“Was it your experiences on the island that made you this way?” Felicity asked.  And it was an honest question.  Like she genuinely didn’t understand.  How could she be so smart and yet so stupid?

“No, Felicity,” Oliver said, suppressing an eye-roll.  “ _You_ make me jealous monster.”

The little fool laughed again.  “That’s silly.  Jealousy is about thinking someone might be stolen away.  Laurel or Sara or even McKenna were so much more likely to be stolen away than _me_ —”

Oliver growled.  Having had enough, he grabbed her and rolled her beneath him, capturing her hands above her head.  He probably _was_ going to need a Percocet after this.

“ _Stop_.  I’m not even going to go there with Palmer since it makes me nauseous, but you need to stop insinuating that those woman or _any_ women is somehow better or more desirable than you,” Oliver told her fiercely.  “I have never felt this way about anyone before.  Ever.  And that’s you.  Not the timing.  _You_.”

He was breathing heavily by the time he was through.  Oliver honestly didn’t know what came over him, but he was pretty sure he’d never said anything like that.  To anyone.  Ever.  And Felicity just stared at him, straight into his soul.

Finally, after long, intimate moments, Oliver’s breathing slowed and Felicity licked her lips, saying softly, “You’re going to hurt yourself, you know.”

Oliver huffed a self-deprecating laugh, “Well… I swear you drive me to insanity.”

Felicity smiled, turning her wrists so she held the hands that were holding hers, turning restraint into embrace.  Leaning off the pillow, she met his lips in a sweet kiss that slowly, quietly deepened into a kiss with such emotion that Oliver finally realized what making love must be like.  What making love with _this_ woman would be like.

Felicity ended the kiss when Oliver would have gone all night.  But she stroked his cheek, smiling into his eyes and making him feel so loved. 

“Sweetheart, you need to roll over.  You’re going to hurt yourself.”

Oliver frowned, but complied.  With much more difficulty than he wanted to admit.  Sighing, he said sheepishly, “I think maybe I’ll take that Percocet now.”

He tried pleading with his eyes for Felicity not to lecture him.  It must have worked, because she wordlessly helped Oliver adjust to sitting up in the bed and gave him the pill.  Not a single I told you so.  She was a rare jewel, his Felicity.

Instead, sitting herself on the edge on the bed, next to his hip, Felicity told him, “For the record, I was _not_ insinuating we should have a 3 Screw List.  I find the idea as abhorrent as you do.”

Pausing with the pill half way to his lips, Oliver stared at her.  “Then why did you keep going on about it?”

Her smile was mischievous.  “Your indignation was really rather adorable.”  Felicity kissed his frown before it could become a scowl, taking the wind out of his sail, and waited until Oliver swallowed the pill before continuing, “What I was going to say, before you went all Arrow on fidelity, which I appreciate by the way, we should have a 3 _Kill_ List.”

Shaking his head incredulously, Oliver just blinked at her.  “What was in that pill you just gave me?”

Felicity smacked his good knee.  “No seriously.  We agree, ahead of time, that there are three people you are allowed to kill with impunity, no fuss, no guilt.  Prearranged exceptions to the no killing rule.”

Oliver stared for another full minute, before laughing incredulously.  “There is no one else like you in the whole world, Felicity.”

“It’s brilliant, right?” Felicity said with a sunny smile, looking very proud.  “Ra’s Al Gul can be your number 1 and that way you never need to hesitate and worry about trying not kill him.  You’re free and clear.”

Shaking his head, Oliver kept laughing, “Ok then, do you get a 3 Kill List too?  Just to be fair?  Because, and I want to make this crystal clear, you do _not_ get a 3 Screw List.”

Felicity giggled and gave him a happy kiss on the cheek.  “I think you’ve made that perfectly clear.  But, yes, to be fair I can have a Kill List too.  For my number 1 I pick…”  She actually tapped her lips as she thought about it.

Oliver shook his head.  “Why do I feel more like we’re playing a drinking game than coming up with a hit list?”

“Because,” Felicity laughed, “ _you_ just took a Percocet.  Also, this isn’t a hit list.  We aren’t searching these people out to kill.  We’re just allowed to if the situation arises.”

“Hmmm.” Oliver thought about that.  He thought there was a good chance he would have to search out Ra’s, but he really didn’t want to get back into that.  Felicity’s strange drinking game without the alcohol held more appeal.  “If I’m acting this way because of the Percocet, which, by the way, hasn’t had enough time to take effect, what’s your excuse?”

“Just high on life, I guess.”  But some of the sunniness went out of her and she seemed more contemplative. 

“Fe-li-city…”

She gave him a small, almost sad, smile.  “Oliver, do you have any idea how happy you’ve made me today?” Oliver’s jaw dropped, but when he opened his mouth to reply, Felicity continued, “The things you say, the way you… the way you love me, I just never really believed I would or could have that… I….it’s almost too good to be true.”

Oliver had to swallow around the ball of emotion that formed in his throat.  “Come ‘mere,” he murmured low and Felicity moved to sit beside him at the head of the bed and he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, kissing the top of her head and guiding her head to lie his chest.  “I want you to remember two things.  1) No one in the world deserves to be loved more than you—”

“Oliver—”

“And 2) We’re sitting here seriously discussing Kill Lists.  That’s the balance.”

Felicity burst out laughing.  It was infectious and Oliver couldn’t help but join in.   He hugged her to him and pressed another kiss to her hair.  “Ok, continue with your morbid not-drinking game.  Who do you want on yours, my deadly little ray of sunshine?”

Giggling, Felicity protested, “I don’t think that endearment made sense.”

“Sure, it did.” Oliver snapped his fingers, “Come on now, I want to hear your Kill List and I had better not be on it.”

Felicity laughed a full belly laugh at that.  “Well, if you insist.  Number one is Amanda Waller.  Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Oliver repeated with a smile.  “Number 2…?”

“Hmmm.  I don’t know.  There’s a lot of girls from high school, but they hardly seem worth the effort.”

“Probably not.”

“Well, if I’m going to treat this seriously, I think I’m going to say Ra’s Al Gul as well.”

Oliver sobered at that, turning to look her in the eye and saying seriously, “Felicity, you are _not_ to go anywhere near—”

“Oh, I’m not going to engage him or anything.  I’m not a moron.”  Oliver let out a sigh of relief, while Felicity shrugged and snuggled into his shoulder.  “But if I happen to get an opportunity to remotely drop a draw bridge on him or rewire a drone to target him or what not….well, then I think I have the right.  He did almost kill my boyfriend.  Even if he wasn’t my boyfriend at the time.”

That earned Felicity another chuckle and another kiss, even if Oliver’s heart was still beating a little fast at thought of her confronting Ra’s.  “I’ll give you that then.  As long as you are nowhere near him, you can remotely kill Ra’s as payback for almost killing your almost boyfriend.”

Felicity sent him a skeptical glance.  “Almost boyfriend.  I don’t think that’s an accurate description of our relationship before.”

“What would be better?  The man who was in love with you, but too stupid and cowardly to do anything about it?  Or the man you were secretly in love with.”

Felicity laughed incredulously and rolled her eyes.  “Some secret.  As if you didn’t know I was in love with you.”

“I absolutely did not,” Oliver insisted, remembering the confusion and insecurity.

“Humph.  I was not subtle.”

“Felicity, you weren’t subtle about being _attracted_ to me.  But it could have been the Salmon Ladder you were in love with for all I knew.” 

Oliver thought she’d laugh, but instead Felicity looked up at him quizzically, as if trying to decide if he was telling the truth or joking. 

The fact was, Oliver had known Felicity was attracted to him from the beginning.   He was pretty certain that she was interested in something beyond friendship pretty soon after.  But being in love with him…he hadn’t really allowed himself to think about how worried he was that she wasn’t, not until she sat by his hospital bed and told him.  He had confessed as much without reciprocation more than once.

Tilting her chin at him, Felicity asked, “You seriously didn’t know I was in love with you?”

Oliver pecked her lips lightly.  “Not until you told me.”

Felicity smiled gently before resting her head on her shoulder again.  “Well, speaking of your past blindness—”

“Hey,” Oliver laughed.

“My third kill is definitely Isabel Rochev.”

Oliver’s chuckle turned into a full belly laugh that honestly hurt.  Though, the Percocet made him mostly not care.  “Felicity, last I checked Rochev was already dead.”

“Yeah, yeah, so were Slade and Malcolm.  And you for that matter.  If she’s alive, I definitely get to kill her.  Again.”

“Sure, baby,” Oliver pressed the last of his snickers into her soft hair.  “You can run her over with a car again.”

“Don’t make fun, mister.” Felicity poked him in his side.  “Running her over was damn satisfying.”

“I’m sure it was.  But she was doped up on Mirakuru at the time and you didn’t have to live with taking a human life.”

“If that helps you sleep at night…”

Felicity glanced up at him from beneath her lashes and then they were both sniggering.  And then there were more playful kisses, which turned into less playful kisses and Oliver was trying to draw her across his lap—

“Oliver!” Felicity pushed him back.  “Stop with the hauling me all over the place.”  Though, she was grinning.  “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

Oliver wouldn’t give up on pulling Felicity closer.  “I feel good.  I took the stupid pill,” he whined.

“The pill makes the pain better,” Felicity laughed, “it doesn’t keep you from reinjuring yourself.”  She settled herself back on his shoulder. “Come on, you need to tell me the other two people on your list.”

“I only need one,” Oliver grumbled.  Talking about a list Felicity would never use was one thing.  A list for him was something else altogether.  A serious, actual, real kind of thing.

Felicity nestled in closer, laying her hand over Oliver’s heart.  “It will feel better if you have three.  More legitimate that way.”

“I don’t think it will,” Oliver huffed, playing with Felicity’s ponytail, since that was the only part of her was allowed to play with.   Not that the cuddling wasn’t nice.

Felicity looked up at him, giving him stupid puppy dog eyes.  Fine.

“Ok, ok,” Oliver gave in with a sigh, looking at the ceiling.  “I don’t know that there’s someone else I want to kill.  Maybe Malcolm I guess, but not really because of Thea.  Though, I can’t help but think we wouldn’t be dealing with any of this if I’d just let Nyssa have him back in October.”  It was a tough thing to admit, especially since his decision to protect Malcolm had been a fairly one-sided one.

But, thankfully, Felicity didn’t mention that, she just pressed a kiss to chest, drawing circles on his t-shirt with her fingertips.  “You were just trying to do what’s right.”

“Hmm,” Oliver grumbled.  “Well, the ‘right thing’ too often seems to lead to one gigantic mess.”

“If it were easy to do the _right thing_ everyone would do it.”

That made Oliver grin again.  “I suppose that’s true.”

“Ok.  Who’s your third?”

“I don’t know.   Can’t I just make that one a wild card or something?”  While the idea have having preemptive redemption for killing Ra’s was comforting, the idea of killing anyone else was just depressing. 

“I don’t think a wild card is in the spirit of the game.”

“It’s a morbid game.”

“Not if you think of it as a game about forgiveness and not about killing.  It’s not about the three people you’re going to hunt down, it’s about the three people you get automatic forgiveness for if you _have_ to kill them.” 

Tipping his head to the side, Oliver met her eyes again.  The corner of his lips slanted up.  “Have I told you I love you recently?”

Felicity’s answering smile was sunshine itself.  “Not in the last five minutes.”

“Hmm, maybe that’s because it’s been five minutes since you kissed me.”

Felicity giggled softly and leaned up to press her lips to his.

“Mmm,” Oliver hummed.  “I love you.”  He stroked her cheek.  “And, when you put it that way, Malcolm is definitely my second.”

“Ok, well, what about Slade Wilson for your third then?  You know, in case he ever escaped?  ” Felicity offered softly, still smiling up at him with love in her eyes.

Only Oliver felt like he had been kicked in the gut.  “Felicity, I…” He closed his eyes, trying to get a hold on the new emotions, the old flashes.

“Hey, what?” Felicity sat up, concerned now.

“I really don’t want…If I had to kill Slade I don’t think I would want forgiveness.  I don’t think I could forgive myself.”  Oliver made himself look into Felicity’s confused eyes.  This was it.  He’d flirted with telling her about his past, _really_ telling her, but now was the moment.  Now or never.  Could he do it?

Oliver took a deep, steadying breath.  “Felicity, Slade….everything _evil_ he did was under the influence of Mirakuru and before that…” he swallowed, “we lived together on that island for almost _two years_.  He saved my life more times than I can count.  He taught me how to fight.  He taught me how to survive.  He was my _brother_.”

He squeezed his eyes tightly shut.  Oliver’s whole body had become a ball of tension and he was unable to relax even the arm that held Felicity to him.  He worried that he was hurting her.

 But Felicity showed no signs of discomfort.  She just whispered, “I…I didn’t know.”

“How could you?” Oliver swallowed his self-disgust.  “I’ve told you almost nothing about those five years.”

He opened his eyes to the slow stroke of her hand down his face and captured it as it cupped his chin. 

“You could tell me now,” Felicity murmured.  “If you feel up to it.”

Oliver’s breath hissed.  He had known now was time, hadn’t he?  “It’s not a nice story, Felicity,” he warned.

But her smile was comforting.  “Didn’t think it would be.  If it was, you probably would have sold the rights to Spielberg or something.  You’d be a millionaire again and not have to worry about living off the six or seven scattered accounts you have around the globe…don’t think I didn’t know about those.”

“For emergencies,” Oliver muttered, with a small shrug, before looking her full in the eye.  “I did some terrible, horrible things.  Worse than anything you’ve seen so far.”  So much worse.

Felicity brought her other hand up so they both cupped his face.  “I know,” she insisted, quiet but fierce.  “I know and I still love you.  No matter what you tell me.  I will _still_ love you.”

Oliver squeezed her hands.  Fighting the sting in his eyes, he croaked, “How can you be sure?”

“I’m sure.” 

She sounded sure and Felicity wasn’t a very good liar.  Oliver closed his eyes again and nodded.  “You want the long version?”

“I want everything you are willing to give.” 

Oliver looked at her hard, mind racing.  But then, he realized there was no decision to make.   If he wanted to move beyond this, he needed to tell someone, needed to tell _her_.  He cupped the back of Felicity’s head pulling her in for one more hard kiss.  For courage. 

Then lying back down, Oliver began, “Did I tell you that my father made it off the Gambit…?”

It was surprisingly easy to close his eyes and just talk, cathartic almost.   In some ways it felt like the story belonged to someone else.  Oliver could see it behind his eyelids and it was almost like watching a movie.  It felt different to choose to think about it, rather than to have the thoughts and flashes and nightmares forced upon him.  Maybe he should have taken control years ago.  

There were still parts that were incredibly painful to think about, never mind say.  But when Oliver peeked over at Felicity and saw nothing but acceptance it felt like he couldn't get the words out fast enough.  

Oh, she was horrified at times.  And there were tears.  It was Felicity so, _of course_ , there were tears.  But it was always with empathy.  Never condemnation.  It was always upset _for_ him. Never _at_ him.  Never judging.   Always understanding. 

Sometimes, Oliver felt like Felicity didn't get it.   How could she and not comprehend that his soul was black.  Sometimes, he deliberately made the story as ugly as he could.  He was testing her, he knew that.  He also knew it was wrong of him, that it wasn't a healthy relationship thing to do and he should stop.   But if it was a test, she always passed, always said the right thing.   He really didn't deserve her.

It was after Oliver had told her about what he figured must have been almost a year on the island that their stomachs started to growl.  

He told her about his time with Shado in the kitchen, while Felicity heated up the chicken noddle soup they found in the fridge, which was good, because it was easier to talk it about with Felicity’s back turned, at the stove.  Oliver told her about finding out Sara was alive while sitting on the couch eating soup and soft bread because he was still on a “soft” “bland” diet.  

It was dark by the time they got to the part that prompted this all in the first place.   Oliver became restless as talked about injecting Slade with the Mirakuru.  He couldn’t decide if he regretted doing it or not and needed to burn off energy, but his damn body wouldn't cooperate.  In the end, Oliver couldn’t stand it and he started pacing, stupid knee be damned. 

But the pain medicine was starting to wear off and Felicity was having none of that, so she coaxed him back to bed with soft words and warm hands.  She had Oliver take the pile of pills Dr. Singh had left him, antibiotics and gut motility bullshit and a bunch of other stuff he wouldn't have taken if it hadn't meant arguing with Felicity.  Which he just wasn't willing to do.  Not that night anyway.  

There was another Percocet in there as well, but he didn't fight that either.  In the end, Oliver was too emotionally exhausted to even tease Felicity when she helped him change into a clean pair of pajamas.

Lying in bed with Felicity carefully pressed against his left side, her knee avoiding his brace and his casted arm wrapped around her back, the lights turned low, Oliver was actually able to relax.  It had been a strange, strange day.    

“So you see, I can't kill Slade.  I can't.”

“I do,” Felicity murmured, her voice reverberating against his chest like a kiss.   “You love him.”

The simple truth that he had avoided for a long time brought tears to Oliver’s eyes.  “It's all my fault.”

But Felicity just rubbed Oliver’s chest soothingly, saying in a quiet, thick voice, “Why?  Because you gave your dying best friend an unknown drug in a desperate attempt to save his life?  Because you threw yourself in front of Sara when Ivo went to shoot her so the lunatic killed Shado instead?”

“Because I _chose_ Sara.”

“Oliver, yes, you chose to save Sara, but not over Shado.  You tried to sacrifice yourself.   It was an impossible choice, one you did your best not to make—“

“But I couldn't.  I couldn't figure a way out and Shado’s dead because of it.” Oliver said it matter-of-factly.   He'd gone over it a million times in his mind.  He knew it was impossible.  That there was no right choice.  He could almost come to grips with the horrible choice that was forced on him by Ivo, but that wasn't what tormented him anymore.

“Ivo was a monster.  A psychopath.  You were in a catch 22.  There was nothing—”

“Felicity,” Oliver stopped her, because he knew she could go on like that all night, defending him.  But the weight and the warmth of her presence and his confessions and, yes, maybe, even the pain medicine was settling into his bones and there was something else he needed to tell her.

Oliver gnawed his lip and looked at the ceiling, starting again, “Felicity, I loved Shado.” He felt her stiffen next to him, but pressed on.  “I loved her, but not like Slade loved her.  And I hadn't known, but I should have.  If a had known—”

“You’d have what?  Let Sara die?  Not been with Shado?” Felicity asked gently, relaxed against him again.  “Shado chose _you_.  Not Slade.”

Oliver shook his head.  “I'm not sure she knew what her choice was and I…I was too self-centered to see.  I didn't understand...”

“Understand what?”

Taking a deep breath, Oliver willed the words to come, the ones that would make all his confused thoughts make sense.  “I loved Shado.  But Slade loved Shado the way I love _you_ and I didn't get it, but now I do.  I understand how he felt, how he _feels_.  If you had died because—”

“ _God_ , Oliver.”

Oliver barely had a moment to register the change in her tone, the new intensity, because Felicity was on top of him, with his face in her hands.  And she was kissing him, desperately, intensely, passionately.   With all the emotion Oliver himself had buried deep inside.  He let himself be lost in it, tangling his hand in her hair and tilting her head to get maximum access.

Felicity seemed to be intent on meshing their mouths together as closely as they could possibly get, and, God, Oliver was all for that, tangling his tongue with hers and following her lead, because her lead was fucking amazing.

For long glorious moments, all Oliver thought about was tongues and lips and teeth and Felicity.   He needed more and if he died now this would be enough.

Then her knee hit his right side, by the incision, and the pain came so lightning fast that Oliver gasped with it.

“I'm sorry.  I'm sorry.”  Felicity was up and off him, on the other side of the room before Oliver could catch his breath.  “I'm sorry,” she stammered, shaking.  “I don't know what I was thinking.”

“Felicity,” Oliver called, reaching for her, the pain already fading. 

But she shook her head, stepping back.  Felicity looked completely horror-stricken and absolutely beautiful, her hair loose and messy around her shoulders, her glasses crooked, her lips swollen. “I don't know what came over me.  I could have really hurt you.”

“You didn't.  I'm fine,” Oliver assured, but Felicity took another step back, still looking uncertain, so he lifted his shirt and showed her his bandage.  “Baby, a sword and mountain couldn't kill me, an over-enthusiastic make out session isn't going to do me in.”

Oliver succeeded in making her smile and the trembling stopped.  Felicity took a deep breath and reached for the hand he still had stretched toward her, lying her palm over his, but staying at arm’s length.  “Maybe I should sleep on the couch—”

“ _No_ ,” Oliver snapped, fiercer than he intended.  Then, deliberately softening his tone, he told her, “If you sleep on the coach, I'm sleeping on the coach.”

Felicity rolled her eyes, coming back to herself.  Thank god.  “Yes and I'm sure we’d both fit.”

“Then you better come back to bed.”  Oliver tried to pull her in.  “I'm tired and need my sleep.”

Still, Felicity hesitated, but with another eye-roll, she walked to the other side of the bed and climbed in.  Feel somewhat triumphant, Oliver reached for her, but she scooted back, “I can't sleep on top of you.  I’ll hurt you.”

Oliver growled low in his throat.  “I'm fine.  Felicity, come on.”

Then she seemed to take pity on him, reaching over and encouraging Oliver to roll onto his stomach. “Here you lie on me.”

Oliver laughed, “Felicity, baby, I'll crush you.”

“Shhhh, like this.”  He let her guide him so he was lying next to her, with his head on her soft belly and his arms curved around sides.  

As Felicity ran her nails along his scalp, he purred.  Wow.  Perfect.

“My genius,” Oliver hummed.

Felicity chuckled and he could feel it echo through him.  “Shh.  Now go to sleep and—”

Oliver was asleep before she could finish her sentence.

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the Chapter that would not end. I tried to edit it down, but in the end lost very little. I blame watching all 69 episodes plus 23 of Flash in less than a month. Hope it’s not too convoluted. Thanks for reading.
> 
> Emmy


	7. Ancient Texts

It was really beautiful here.  Green and lush.  Mountains in the distance.  The sun sparkling off the lake.  It was the perfect vacation spot. 

 

Too bad the only way to stay here was to be hunted by a sociopath while simultaneously being judged exceptionally valuable to a super-secret and somewhat sketchy government agency.  So, most likely, Felicity would _not_ be booking it for a yearly romantic couples retreat.  Though, with the way their lives went, one never knew.   

 

It was warm, feeling more like early spring than mid-February.  Crisp, clear and sunny.   Nice enough that Felicity was more than comfortable sitting on the front porch, breathing in the fresh air, in jeans and a light hoodie.

 

This was a good thing, because Oliver had made a total of…32 laps around the lake this morning alone.  And it wasn't a small lake, it wasn’t _enormous_ or anything, but the amount of walking in what amounted to huge asymmetrical circle was not to be underestimated.

 

The day before, a pair of ARGUS medics arrived to check Oliver’s progress.   Miraculously, considering how he did his best to ignore all doctors’ orders, Oliver’s health was even better than they expected.  The man was a medical marvel.  It was amazing what that body of his could take.

 

And God, what Felicity would do to test _exactly_ how much his body could _take_.

 

But, no, despite his significant physical progress there would be none of that. Oliver had been cleared to walk on his own.   Only to walk.   They were _very_ specific.  There was to be no exercise that would put strain on his abdominal muscles. 

 

It was not what Oliver had wanted to hear.   In fact, Felicity had to slap her hand over his mouth to keep him from demanding that the medics clear him for sex.  To be fair, she hadn't known exactly what Oliver was going to say, but he had a peculiar look in his eye and in her imagination the next thing out of his mouth was incredibly embarrassing.

 

All in all, Oliver was left rather cranky.  Hence the 32 laps and counting.

 

In all honesty, it was making Felicity pretty irritable herself, but she had to pretend that she wasn't.  Because if Oliver detected any cracks in her resolve, it was all over.   And if he turned up the sex appeal anymore her brain was going to melt out her ears, all reason and good judgement evaporating out over the distant mountain tops.

 

Felicity had gotten up this morning and joined Oliver on his dawn trek around the lake.   It had been rather lovely, actually.  He was already walking when she joined him and she had been worried that he was settling in for a good brood, but she hadn't found it too difficult to lighten his mood.

 

Watching the sunrise and walking together around the lake was disgustingly romantic and quite wonderful.  They had managed to keep conversation light and flirtatious.  Holding hands in the brisk morning, they had watched the sun rise and circled the lake a dozen or so times. Oliver teasing her as Felicity sometimes stumbled over the uneven terrain was as dark as the mood got. 

 

Seriously though, it was epically unfair that he was still a hundred times more graceful than her even while wearing a brace and a cast.  Felicity had told him exactly that, because she had no filter.   And Oliver had laughed and told her that she had her own grace.

 

The things he said…who would have guessed that Oliver Queen even had it in him.  The lovely romantic things that came out of his mouth where unbelievable.  Literally, unbelievable.  Like if someone had told Felicity he would say these things a year ago, she would have rolled her eyes and laughed in their face, telling them they didn’t know Oliver like she did. 

 

But she _did_ know Oliver.  She knew when he was putting on his fake smile and when he was being genuine.  And this was as genuine as he got.  So, though Felicity’s skin was starting to bruise from all the times she pinched herself, she didn’t doubt his sincerity.  It was…wow.  Just wow.   It was a whole new Oliver.

 

Eventually, Felicity was able to convince Oliver to come inside and make them breakfast.  It turned out he was miles better than her at cooking as well as all things physical and graceful.  Like California to Cincinnati miles.

 

At first, it seemed weird that he could cook, `cause spoiled billionaire.  Oliver said it was because years of having so few food options made him careful and creative.  Personally, Felicity thought it was because he was naturally precise and focused, where as she was scattered, her brain going in five different directions at any given time, which often led to things having an extra crispy black coating and salt being used instead of sugar.

 

So yeah, Oliver did the cooking and Felicity made coffee and conversation.   And after a sweet and romantic breakfast, which, seriously, how was this her life?  There may have been food sharing and finger feeding.  Which may have then led to tasting syrup off lips and, of course, to deep, slow erotic kisses and necking and….a very frustrated Oliver on his 33rd lap.

 

All because Felicity refused to go against doctors’ orders.  Not that she didn’t want to, ignore their orders and climb Oliver like a tree, that is.  Because, dear God, look at the man.  This man, who was somehow, magically, _hers_ now.  A god of a man who kissed and touched her like she was the only thing that mattered in the entire world. 

Having Oliver’s single minded intensity focused on her and only her was a dream come true and, well, almost scary.  But also arousing and addictive and amazing.  So, _sooo_ amazing.

 

Oh and there was the little fact that Felicity had been in love with Oliver for like… _ever_ and lusting after him for even longer than that.  Which was mathematically impossible, but they were dealing in hyperbole here not in mathematics.

 

The point being, did Felicity want to throw doctors’ orders out the fraking window?  Take advantage of this rare opportunity with the man of her dreams in the most romantic secret government hideout in the entire world?  Did she want to give into his playful nips and pleading eyes?  His passionate caresses and beautiful words?

 

Absofrickinglutely, she did.  Felicity wasn’t an imbecile.  This was possibly the hardest thing she had ever done.

 

Felicity lay awake imagining it.  Which was really torture because Oliver was lying next to her and she had to pretend to be asleep.  And she wasn’t good at pretending, especially not with him.  Lying next to Oliver in bed, warm and willing and perfect, was like sitting watching mint chocolate chip ice cream melt away without taking a bite.

 

And Felicity was _starving_.  Her favorite food being dangled in front of her ravenous face and she wasn’t supposed to taste it.  Will power could only last so long.

 

Felicity had lost count of the number of times she had made up some stupid, totally see-through excuse and run from the room, just to give herself a breather.  And a pep talk.  And try to remember why she was resisting. 

 

Remembering the images of the multiple complications from that surgical textbook she had read was just about the only thing that held her together sometimes.

 

It wasn’t as if Felicity hadn’t considered that there might be certain _possibilities_ which might not result in a hematoma or internal bleeding.  That maybe there was more they could do than necking that wouldn’t put undue pressure on Oliver’s abs and knee.  It wasn’t as if every _single_ inventive, creative solution hadn’t entered her mind and played on repeat in vivid detail leaving her in a constant state of frustrated arousal.

 

Some of it wasn’t even _that_ creative.  It would be oh-so-easy to just climb on top of Oliver as he was laid out on bed like a beautiful meal just waiting for Felicity to devour and ride him until they were both a whole lot less tense.  

 

Felicity knew he was beyond willing.  And maybe, a big maybe, she could trust Oliver to lay still and not take over if she threatened to stop using her loud voice.  And maybe, if she were super careful, her clumsiness wouldn’t end up with an elbow in his incision and a trip to the emergency room.

 

But really, what it came down to was that their first time had a lot of expectations associated with it.  On both their sides.  Two years of glorious expectations and that was _before_ Oliver had upped the ante by calling Felicity an angel and basically acting like she was his definition of perfect.  It was a bubble she really wasn’t ready to burst.

 

And as much as the Felicity in her fantasies was an oh-so-in-control sex goddess, the Felicity in real life …was _not_.

 

But Oliver was.  Not a goddess, of course.  A god.  A sex god.  Wow.  Seriously.  Wow.  It was _not_ all hype.

 

It wasn’t just that Oliver oozed sexuality from every poor.  It wasn’t _just_ the beautiful, perfectly sculpted body Felicity had been drooling over since she first saw him on the cover of a magazine.  Even the scars.  Especially with the scars.  Felicity had no idea she’d be so turned on by such a thing, but they’d come to represent strength and fortitude and …ack.  It was too much.  Too damn much.

 

But looks aside, even when Felicity wasn’t objectifying him, she knew without a fragment of a doubt, that Oliver Queen was the sex god that the scandal sheets made him out to be.  And more.  So, so much more.

 

Maybe the two of them hadn’t gone beyond making out like teenagers in the backseat of their parent’s car, but it wasn’t hard to figure out that Oliver was by far the most experienced, most _skilled_ lover Felicity had ever been with.

 

And the last thing Felicity wanted was to take the lead their first time and humiliate herself by showing just how _un_ skilled she was.  And spastic and awkward and anxious...God, at this rate she was really going to psych herself out. 

 

It wasn’t like Felicity didn’t know that Oliver didn’t care.  He wasn’t going to leave her because she wasn’t perfect in bed.  She knew he loved her awkward bumbling, even though she couldn’t understand why.  But she didn’t even know if she could pull it off and, honestly, she wanted to be able to look him in the eye afterwards.

 

So as much as she burned, and in a full-on, pathetic, romance novel way, Felicity _burned_ for him, she was going to wait until Oliver could take the lead and she could follow.  It was guaranteed to go well that way.  To be perfect.  It wouldn’t be long now, right?

 

Besides, man, did Felicity dream of being thrown around by those delicious muscles.

 

So, here she was, sitting on the porch of their perfect little cabin with a laptop sitting on her crossed legs, watching her own scrumptious man work off some sexual frustration in the guise of “rebuilding stamina” while Felicity got to marvel at the idea that Oliver was actually hers and tried to think about anything but his _stamina_.

 

At least the decryption was interesting.

 

It turned out that only about half of the information that Lyla had given her about The League of Assassins was even readable.  The rest was scanned texts in ancient languages or heavily encrypted documents.  Felicity wasn’t sure whether she had just gotten the raw data or if ARGUS hadn’t been able to decode it all yet.

 

Felicity preferred to think it was the later, because it gave her a thrill to be able to do what ARGUS couldn’t.  It made her feel useful, like maybe she could possibly live up to half of the wonderful things Oliver said about her.  Also, fun.  At least, when she could focus on it.

 

Up until Oliver’s walking project, he had taken up almost all of Felicity’s attention.  She said it before and she suspected she would say it a lot, but a bored Oliver was a needy Oliver.

 

They had gotten through all the readable information from the laptop, taking turns reading it to each other, with frequent breaks for discussion whenever something new or different came up.  Not that there was a lot that fell into those categories.  So, they’d get frustrated and heads would start to hurt, and then they would watch a movie that Oliver missed while he was away (or in the last three years because he never took breaks for things like movies.)  And they’d laugh and talk and make out a bit more. 

 

Sometimes, Felicity would make Oliver play chess with her.  He was actually pretty incredible at chess when he tried.  And Stratego.  He was killer at Stratego.  Which actually shouldn’t be surprising.  She had known he was smart, because _obviously_ , he wouldn’t have survived if he wasn’t.  And, tactically, he was brilliant. 

 

Out of curiosity, Felicity had hacked into the College Board a couple years back and it turns out that Oliver hadn’t gotten into all those Ivy League colleges just because of his family connections.  At the time, she had just marveled at the waste.  The things he could have accomplished if he had gone to a single class.  But maybe even then he wasn’t meant to sit still.  Though, she suspected it had more to do with rebelling against the crushing weight of familial expectations than anything else.

 

Well lucky for them, Felicity had gone to class.  And that was at least something she could confidently bring to their relationship, to the team. 

 

Felicity was quite proud of the program she came up with to decode the ancient Arabic, especially since she didn’t know a lick of Arabic, ancient or otherwise.   The stuff from the translation was much more interesting, she was finding, than any of the readable stuff they got from ARGUS.

 

It was fascinating actually, even if Felicity wasn’t sure of how much of it could be believed.  A lot of this stuff went back to the bible.  There was quite a bit that basically equated to magic and mysticism, but it was disturbingly detailed and complex.  There were pages and pages on something that roughly translated to the Lazarus Pitt.  Which did exactly what it sounded like. Scary.  But really cool.  And scary.  If it were real, of course.

 

There was another whole section about some, apparently, really important prophecies.  To the League, not to her… except oh…oh, no….maybe it _was_ important to her.  Frack, frack, frack.  This was so not good—

 

“Hey.  Find anything?”

 

Felicity squeaked, slamming her laptop shut. Her eyes snapped up to find blue eyes level to her own as Oliver crouched down in front of her.  Damn his ninja skills. 

 

Oliver just laughed at her discomfort and placed a hand on her knee, making Felicity frown and bark, “No crouching!”

 

“Yeah, yeah, not good for the abs,” Oliver mocked, rolling his eyes.

 

“Or your knee.”

 

That got Felicity another eye-roll, but it was tempered with a kiss as Oliver stood and nudged her to move over on the wicker love seat to drop down next to her.  As large as he was, it was a very tight fit, but that suited them both just fine.  He slung his arm over her shoulder and she snuggled into his side.

 

Oliver pressed a kiss to the crown of her head before leaning over and tapping the top of her laptop with his forefinger.  “So, what did you find that had you slamming this shut so quickly?”

 

He noticed that, had he?

 

Felicity tried for an innocent smile.  “You just startled me.” 

 

She didn’t know why she was hiding it.  Felicity knew she was going to tell Oliver everything anyway.  She just needed time to process first.  Great, now _she_ was practically brooding.  Real life had invaded her thoughts and was holding on tight.

 

“Mmmhmm,” Oliver hummed, skeptically.

 

Seems she was about as bad a liar as Oliver was.   Felicity sighed, admitting, “Nothing good.  That’s what I’ve found.  Nothing good.”

 

Oliver frowned, but remained relaxed next to her.  Which was good, Felicity supposed. 

 

“Are you having trouble with the translations?”

 

Felicity waved off that that particular concern, slightly insulted that Oliver would even entertain then thought.  “Oh no, cracked that no problem.  That was the fun part.”

 

Chuckling, Oliver nodded.  “Of course, it was.”

 

Felicity tried to smile at the pride in his voice, but the things she had just read were weighing on her.  She pushed her glasses up to rub her eyes and pinch the bridge of her nose.  Oliver’s hand moved to her nape to give her a reassuring one-handed massage, which was surprisingly effective, since there was nothing the man couldn’t do with his hands.  He was just _that_ talented.  She relaxed into his chest and closed her eyes, but her thoughts kept on racing.

 

“You ready yet to tell me what you’re thinking?” Oliver whispered after a few minutes.

 

Felicity huffed a mirthless laugh against his side.  “I’m thinking that there’s no real answer.  I’m thinking that we’ll never be able to defeat the entire League.  It would be like wiping out an entire race or culture.  Even if we got over the sheer numbers, they are scattered all over the world.  Then there is the millennia of history and if even a tenth of the magicky stuff is true… not that I even believe in magic, except that magic is really just science that hasn’t been explained yet and I’ve seen a lot of weird science, so I guess I do believe in Mag—”

 

Oliver stopped her truly spectacular ramble, which she had barely noticed she was having, by turning her head towards him and pressing his lips to hers.  He didn’t stop kissing her until her anxious thoughts started to still and flit away.  Felicity was just beginning to really kiss him back when he pulled away.

 

Stroking her cheek gently, Oliver smiled down at her.  “You know I’ve imagined doing that forever.”

 

“Hmm, what?” Felicity was still disappointed Oliver had stopped and was staring at his lips, distractedly.

 

“Stop your rambles with a kiss.”  Oliver’s dimples showed.

 

Felicity wrinkled her nose.  She was pretty sure there was an insult buried in there somewhere.  “I knew you wanted to shut me up.”

 

Laughing, Oliver pressed a kiss to her nose, “No, I love when you ramble, just sometimes you’re a runaway train and you need a little help coming back to me.”

 

Having a hard time arguing with that, especially since it was so sweet, Felicity rolled her eyes half-heartedly and said, “Well, now you’ve gone and totally distracted me.  So…exactly what track was I on before you lured me into Oliver’s talented lips station?”

 

“Magic,” Oliver reminded her, chuckling and grinning broadly, “and the League.” 

 

Ah yes, that was quite a bit less fun.

 

Oliver pressed another kiss to her lips before sitting back and saying more seriously, “I don’t know about the magic stuff, but I agree that we can’t go to war with the entire League.” Frowning now, he looked off into the distance.  “Honestly, Felicity, right now I don’t even know that I’m capable of defeating Ra’s Al Gul, never mind his army.”

 

Felicity hated that look in his eye.  “Oliver, you’re not still worried that you aren’t capable of killing—”

 

“No, no, it’s not that.  I’m...” Oliver shook his head.  “I’m not sure I can even get that far.  I just don’t think I’m good enough.”

 

Felicity took umbrage with that.  Straightening her shoulders, she argued, “Of course, you’re good en—”

 

But she broke off at Oliver’s chuckle.  “At the sword, Felicity, at the sword.  It’s not my forte.  Ra’s isn’t challenging me to an archery contrast.  It’s not even hand to hand.  The man has been perfecting the art of sword fighting for over a century.  The more I go over that last…”  He swallowed and a lump came to Felicity’s throat.  “The more I think about that fight, the less I think it had to do with my will to live.  Or even whether or not I wanted to kill again and the more I think he just flat out bested me.”

 

Placing the laptop on the table next to her, Felicity got onto her knees on the loveseat so she could face him.  Taking his hand, Felicity squeezed until he met her eyes and said, “So, that’s good.”  Oliver raised his eyebrow, but she pressed on, “Then we know what to work on.  We’ll get you better at swords.  We’ll find a master—”

 

“At the risk of getting anther lecture on proverbs…” interrupted Oliver, giving her a lopsided grin.

 

Sitting back on her heals and rolling her eyes, Felicity waved him on.  “Go on then.  I’ll keep my thoughts on clichéd sayings to myself.”

 

It was clear that Oliver was taking a moment to control his smile before saying, “Only the Master Can Defeat the Student.”

 

As far as a saying went, it wasn’t a terrible one.  Not _too_ clichéd…wait.  “O…k…  So are you saying you need Ra’s to teach you how to defeat Ra’s.”  Please, let that _not_ be what Oliver was saying.

 

Oliver had the gall to use that puppy dog, look-at-you-through-lowered-lashes thing he did.  So, Felicity _knew_ he was trying to manipulate her when he said, “I think I need to find someone who was taught by Ra’s to teach me.”

 

Felicity reeled back, because she knew exactly where Oliver was going with this.  “Don’t say it…” she warned.

 

“I think we need to work with Malcolm.”

 

He said it.  Frack!

 

“No,” Felicity shook her head, springing to her feet.  “No, no, no.  He’s _evil_.  Possibly more evil than Ra’s Al Gul.  He created an Earthquake Machine that killed his own son and was disappointed when it didn’t kill the thousands it was meant to.”  Ok, she didn’t know the last part for sure, but it was a pretty decent deduction.  “We can’t work with him.”   Felicity was pacing now.

 

Oliver groaned.  “I _know_ , but he’s been good to Thea, he…”  He leaned forward, scrubbing his face with his large hands, cast and all.  “Felicity, I’m open to suggestions.”

 

“There’s got to be someone else,” Felicity exclaimed, throwing up her hands. “There’s got to be a sword master _somewhere_ who isn’t evil.”

 

“It’s got to be someone who has been in the League,” Oliver insisted, louder now and Felicity wondered if they were gearing up to have their first real fight as a couple.  “If Sara was…” 

 

Oliver trailed off with a haunted look in his eyes and Felicity’s ire died a quick death.  “What about Nyssa?” she offered quickly, inspiration striking. 

 

“Ask Nyssa to teach me how to kill her father?” Oliver questioned skeptically.

 

 

Good point.  “Well, she doesn’t seem to be very happy with him since Sara.  And she has a whole lot more honor than Malcolm Merlyn.”  Just saying his name made Felicity’s stomach churn.

 

“I agree.  But it’s her _father_ , Felicity.”

Felicity closed her eyes, rubbing them again.  Think.  Think.  Think.  “What about your friend?” she offered.  “The one who saved you?”

 

“Maseo?”

 

Felicity nodded, starting to like the idea.  Oliver hadn’t told her much about this man.  After Oliver told her about those first two years on the island and how he arrived in Hong Kong they hadn’t spoken about his past again in any depth.  Felicity hadn’t pushed.  That first night had been emotionally draining for them both and she sensed that he’d shared all he was capable of for the time being.

 

Oliver slumped over, elbows on his knees, looking exhausted again.  “I don’t know.  Maybe.  I have no idea what his loyalty is now.  Saving me is one thing, helping me kill his leader is another.   At least I know Malcolm wants Ra’s dead.”

 

It was an excellent point, but not a concession she was ready to give just yet.  Felicity crossed her arms.  “I don’t buy the whole ‘The Enemy of my Enemy is My Friend’, thing.”

 

Oliver lifted his head, his lips quirking.  “You really don’t like proverbs, do you?”

 

Felicity shrugged, returning his smile despite herself.  When Oliver held out his hands she took them, gladly.

 

“Felicity, as much as I hate it, to defeat the people we fight I can’t think in black and white.  I have to live in the gray.  You must see that.”

 

“Malcolm’s pretty black, Oliver,” Felicity insisted, but she moved between his legs so their thighs were touching.

 

Oliver smiled up at her and cupped her cheeks in his hands, the plaster of his cast resting lightly on her chin.  “And you…”  He swallowed.  “You are my white light and I want you to stay that way, I—”

 

Felicity stopped him with a kiss.  If Oliver was going to say things like that she didn’t know how she was going to be able to argue with him.  But they were really going to have to work on the whole him putting her up on a pedestal thing.  The air was a little thin up there.

 

“I don’t want to stay in the white without you,” Felicity whispered, her voice cracking, because she was pathetic and she cried at everything.  “If you’re in the grey than I want to be in the gray too.”

 

But Oliver shook his head, his voice just as low and full of emotion, “But then how would I see my way out?”

 

Felicity practically whimpered, because seriously, how did a big tough guy like Oliver even pull off saying something that tooth-rottingly sweet and have in sound completely beautiful and genuine.  

 

So maybe it was also a fabulous view from up on this pedestal, but, damn, Felicity was afraid of heights.

 

She couldn’t answer without crying, so she leaned into him, cupping Oliver’s chin and trying to show him how much she loved him with her lips.  He caught her, like he always did, his arms coming around her back and pulling her close, breathing her in.  Somehow, Felicity couldn’t help but wonder at how this was even happening.  She tasted salt and knew she had lost the battle with at least a few tears.

 

Oliver drew back, kissing her nose, her forehead.  He pushed back Felicity’s hair and smoothed it behind her ears as she leaned her forehead against his lips and rested there for long moments.

 

Taking a deep breath, Felicity finally murmured, “This doesn’t mean I’m agreeing to work with Malcolm Merlyn.”

 

Chuckling, Oliver pressed another kiss to her forehead.  “I didn’t think you were.”

 

It was tempting to let things go at that, to lure Oliver inside to make them lunch, to try to convince him to watch Doctor Who with her or trounce him at poker as he tried to convince her to play strip poker, which Felicity really should totally agree to considering she would definitely win.

 

But they had to talk about what she found at some point and it might as well be now.  Taking a deep breath, Felicity leaned back in his arms and said, “We have another problem.  Even if we… _you_ kill Ra’s who’s to say the next Ra’s and the rest of the League won’t still come after us.”

 

Oliver shook his head, frowning, “Because we satisfied the blood debt—”

 

“I think the challenge you offered Ra’s to satisfy Thea’s blood debt may have been a one-time offer.”  Felicity swallowed, quickly saying before she lost her nerve, “Oliver, I read something very disturbing.”

 

“Just now,” he stated, as if he known all along and had just been waiting for Felicity to say it.

 

Felicity nodded, gathering her courage.  Somehow, saying it out loud made it real and she didn’t want it to be real.  “A prophecy.  _The man who doesn't perish at the blade of Ra's al Ghul will become Ra's al Ghul_.” She gulped. “Oliver that’s you.”

 

She bit her lip as she watched Oliver process this new information.  After a moment, he just shook his head, arguing quietly, “Nyssa’s his heir.”

 

If only it were that simple.  “Unfortunately, it really looks like prophecies trump line of succession.  Actually, I can’t find any cases where the position was inherited.  The League believes it needs to be _earned_.”

 

Felicity could tell the exact moment she got through to him, because Oliver looked over her shoulder and blew out a long exhalation, his jaw tightening.  It was only then, that she found it in her to continue.  “There’s more.  Some really horrible things come along with becoming the next Ra’s—”

 

“Felicity, I’m not going to become the next Ra’s Al Gul,” Oliver interrupts firmly.

 

She frowned. “But the Prophecy—”

 

“Is all well and good, but there is also such thing as free will.”  Oliver ran his hands down her back, soothing her.  “You don’t believe in proverbs, but now you believe in prophecies?”

 

Felicity twined her hands at his nape.  “It doesn’t matter if I believe.  What matters is if the current Ra’s believes.”

 

“Look, have you finished reading all the texts?”

 

Felicity shook her head.

 

“Then we don’t even have all the information.  We don’t know if this Prophecy is a real thing, or if I meet the qualifications or… we don’t know anything for sure.”  Oliver tipped her chin down so Felicity looked him in the eye again.  “Maybe this is an old prophecy, defunct or something.  We have time.  We’re still stuck here for the time being.  We’ll finish going through all of the information from ARGUS and then we’ll create a plan.  Plans.  Plans A through F if we have to.”

 

That made Felicity smile, because he said ‘we’ and Oliver never said ‘we.’  “Together?  Promise?”

 

Oliver met her gaze steadily and vowed, “Promise.”

 

It was enough.  

 

 

 

^^^^^^^^

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so this is late (later then I intended, anyway) because the Arrow premiere put me in a place where I totally couldn’t concentrate on Found at all. 
> 
> I was a pathetic, anxious mess after the last scene, until I talked to my Best Friend, who is completely awesome because she discussed my anxiety over Felicity’s possible death with me as if it were an actual problem and not the possible death of a fictional character. In the end, I spent the weekend writing a “therapy fic” (I don’t know if that is a thing or something we made up), which totally worked because I feel much better now.
> 
> Anyway, that story, called Resonance of Sorrow, will be out tomorrow (hopefully) and Found will have a short (maybe 2 week) hiatus, which I feel bad about cause this wasn’t the most exciting chapter. Sorry. But, I hope, Resonance of Sorrow, will help other people deal with the six months of angst as well.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this and check out me new story tomorrow.
> 
> Thank you!  
> Emmy


	8. Sunrise

Oliver’s new routine was to wake just before dawn and walk the lake in the hazy morning light.  He’d like to say it was because it was beautiful, tranquil, even romantic.  It would be nice to claim that it was about health and wellbeing, regaining his strength and so on and so worth.

And not because he woke most mornings instantaneously alert and with a strong need to _move_. 

Oliver found it almost impossible to sleep more than six hours since the island without the help of some heavy duty pharmaceuticals.  And six was really pushing it.  Actually, there were some very specific ways he’d learned he could achieve those six hours:

A) The aforementioned pharmaceuticals which Oliver hated above anything else and avoided at all costs.  B) Five or six hours of intense physical activity.  C) Staying awake for at least forty-eight hours straight.    And, now, blessedly, it looked as if Oliver was going to able to add D) sleeping next to Felicity Smoak.  Which really was far preferable to all other options, but, still, anything more than six hours was pushing it.  And after he woke up…

God, he hated lying in the quiet with nothing but his own thoughts.  Half the time, Oliver still battled the feeling that something horrible could have happened while he slept and he needed to patrol for threats the minute he opened his eyes.  It was getting better.  A _lot_ better.  But still…

Christ, Oliver missed training.  _Real_ training.  Pushing his body to the point where all he could focus on was the burn of his muscles and the flow of the movement.  He missed forcing the tension out by beating it back and shaping it to his will.  For years, it was the only thing that really made him feel like he was in control.

And now, he had to be grateful that he was allowed to walk in a circle.

Strangely, though, it wasn’t so bad.  Oliver had shown up to this Safe House two weeks ago with a brand new set of flashbacks and nightmares tormenting him.  Yet, somehow, they had gotten better, instead of worse.  Which was a new experience for him.  He was even sleeping those six hours straight, nightmares free, and that was _without_ the Percocet.

It turned out, there must be something to that psychobabble shrinks were always preaching, because telling Felicity his story (or at least a large part of it) seemed to be a turning point.   The more honest he was with her, the lighter Oliver felt.   Not that he actually felt _light_ , per se, but anything was better than the panic and intrusive thoughts he had been plagued with.

Oliver had actually gotten to the point where he could leave Felicity’s side without feeling like the world was going to end.  It was still pretty pathetic, but he was counting that as a win.  Actually, the tension and restless energy that he needed to work off now-a-days tended to be mostly sexual.  On balance, he supposed that could be counted as a win as well. 

Most mornings, Felicity had joined him on his early walk around the lake.  No matter how quietly he tried to leave the bed, she never seemed to sleep peacefully after Oliver got up.  It selfishly thrilled him knowing that she was becoming as addicted to his presence as he was to hers.  He didn't delude himself that he would doing half as well if she wasn't next to him.  The last eight years were proof of that.

Watching the sunrise with Felicity filled Oliver with a sense of peace that he hadn't known in at least a decade, or… maybe in ever.   Before the Gambit he was too young or too stupid to appreciate peace if he did have it.  Probably, he would have found it boring.  He really hated his younger self sometimes.

But this morning, Oliver was out in the foggy gray morning waiting for the sunrise on his own.   While six hours was a revelation for him, it seemed to be finally catching up with Felicity who most likely needed a normal person’s amount of sleep.

So, for the first time Felicity slept through Oliver stirring and dressing for his walk.  When it became clear she wasn’t going to wake up, Oliver seriously considered getting back into bed, but there was no doing that without touching her and that was likely to only lead to even greater sexual frustration.  And no catching up of sleep for his girl.

They’d tried to go to sleep early.  However, a goodnight kiss led to a make out session so intense that neither of them had been able to relax, their bodies humming with energy by the time Felicity finally pulled away with her frustrating refrain about Oliver’s ‘health.’

After an aborted attempt to sleep, they'd started laying out their plans A through F.   Felicity made a flow chart.   A digital interactive flow chart.  It was quite impressive.  Oliver told her this, which led to more kissing, which led to _more than_ kissing…and the cycle went on.

A cycle that was both a revelation and acute torture.  And most definitely exhausting.  So, when Felicity passed out a few hours ago, she stayed asleep, barely stirring when Oliver kissed her brow on his way out the door.  

This left Oliver to watch the sunrise for the first time since they'd gotten together alone.  And he realized something.   He really didn't like it.

And not because Oliver was anxious or panicky.  Not because horrible thoughts invaded his mind.  But because it was…what?  Lonely?  Maybe.  Empty?  Dramatic, but closer.   The truth was there was just no joy in the simple pleasure of watching the beauty of the sunrise without Felicity.

And this begged the question:  What the fuck was he going to do now?

Three weeks and they could barely sleep alone.  Oliver already counted on her to keep his demons at bay and now… _now_ he was already feeling despondent and, frankly, bored, because Felicity was 100 feet away, asleep in their bed.

Would they share a bed when they returned?   Oliver had never lived with a woman in his life.  Unless Shado and the hull of a crashed plane counted and he really didn’t think it did.  “Living together” really required intent.  And a bed.  And four fully intact walls.

In fact, the mere discussion of living together had been an enormous turning point in the most important relationships in Oliver’s life.  He felt like it should be a big deal now.  Something that should be discussed and considered seriously.

But it didn’t feel like a big discussion.   It didn’t feel life changing.  It felt like an inevitability.  Actually, _not_ living with Felicity felt like regression.

Christ, how had he even gotten to this place?   It seemed only days ago that Oliver was convinced this was an impossibility.  The idea of being with Felicity had filled him with terror.  He had been completely convinced that it could only lead to disaster and death.  Now, he was dreading the mere idea of spending a single night in separate beds.  And they hadn't even had sex yet. 

Clearly, there was no going back.  Their old lives in Starling were no longer possible.   Oliver's “death” and the aftermath had changed him… _them_.  Irrevocably.

They couldn’t go back to who they were before: friends and partners.  At least not _just_ that.  It would never work.  They were long past the point of no return.

So… _hypothetically_ , if Oliver decided he needed to push Felicity away to keep her safe, he’d have to…what?   Get her to leave town?  The only option would be to get her away from him.  Permanently and completely.  To, somehow, make her hate him enough to never come back.

Oliver felt sick to his stomach just contemplating what it would take.  How badly he would have to hurt her.   How irreversibly he’d have to drive her away.

He couldn’t do it.   He _wouldn’t_.  Oliver didn’t even want to imagine it.  Even if he could stomach hurting Felicity in that way, it would leave him an empty shell.  He was frightened of the man he would become without her.

If Oliver did something awful to make her leave, would there be any good left in him?  Would there be any humanity?  Would he become a killer again?  Would there be anything to stop him if there was nothing left to live for?

So, after a disappointing sunrise, Oliver spent his time walking, much faster than his medics would like, and, instead of going over strategies to defeat Ra’s Al Gul, obsessively reviewing the reasons he had fought being with Felicity in the first place. 

Not to talk himself out of the relationship.  Oh no, that ship had long sailed.  No, Oliver now needed clear and definitive plans to address each and every worry.  He had to find another way.  To keep her and everyone else safe.

Christ, now, Oliver even had to figure out how to keep _himself_ safe.  Because of Felicity, his days of throwing himself head-long into the fire very well may be at an end.  When he committed to her, he promised to be there for her.  Which meant he had to stay alive.

And, frankly, that made everything a whole hell of a lot harder.  Throwing himself in front of the bullet was always a sure-fire last resort.  If all else failed, sacrifice himself.  But Oliver knew Felicity would never forgive him for anything that resembled a suicide mission from here on out.  So self-preservation had to be a thing now. 

Oliver’s mind kept going back to his disastrous first attempt to be with Felicity and their doomed date.  He’d been so nervous and excited and hopeful and afraid and…distracted.  Felicity was just so fucking _distracting_. 

Even when he had been trying to avoid romantic entanglements, she seriously fucked with Oliver’s focus.  He hadn’t exactly been sharp as a tack when she was off in Central City.  Or when Felicity was off with that bastard, _Palmer_. 

Just thinking about Felicity’s boss made Oliver’s fists clench.  He knew it was completely unfair, that Palmer hadn’t done anything wrong, but with perhaps the exception of Ra’s Al Gul, there was no one else in the world Oliver more wanted to put through a goddamn window.

They still hadn’t gotten around to discussing what Oliver had seen that night at Palmer Tech ( _his_ name on the Queen family’s company made his stomach roll), but he was too much of a coward to bring it up.  If Felicity didn’t say anything it couldn’t be important, right?  She kissed a man before they got together.  It was water under the bridge.  Oliver just needed to forget about it.  Any time now.

Oliver shook himself.  Palmer was not a problem that had to be solved at present.  It was Oliver’s own issues that needed to be dealt with in order to keep them safe.

That night of their first date, Oliver had been so frazzled, so _distracted_ that he allowed a psychopath to plant a bug on him that had almost gotten Felicity blown to Kingdom come.  It was his worst nightmare come true.

And this begged the question:  How was Oliver going to keep from becoming distracted once they returned to Starling.  Especially now that they had a whole army of psychopaths after them.  The mere fact that he was thinking about Felicity at this very moment and not Ra’s was case in point. 

Remembering why Oliver had been so distracted during that first date was downright embarrassing.   Why had he been so damn nervous?  It was ridiculous how anxious and insecure he had felt that day.

But he knew why.  Because Oliver Queen, the man who had had women throwing themselves at him long before he was actually a man, who had had several girlfriends at one time (a fact he was not proud of), who had never been rejected by a woman until _after_ he had cheated on them… _that_ man had been completely terrified that one Felicity Smoak wouldn’t want him.

Well, he knew she _wanted_ him.  That Felicity admired his body was obvious.  It wasn’t as if Oliver hadn’t flaunted it in front of her often enough.  And he had seen that she had a crush on him early on. 

But what if that was all it had been?  What if Felicity woke up and realized that Oliver was just a big dumb brute who hadn’t been able to graduate college, who had a history of treating woman like crap, and who was just too fucking damaged to waste her time on.

And a date?  Oliver didn’t know how to function on an actual _date_.  Particularly not with a woman like her.  He knew how to be Ollie.  He knew how to smooze and lay on the fake charm and sex appeal.  He also knew that that person made Felicity’s skin claw.  And, honestly, Oliver had to agree with her.  He’d come to hate the person he was before the island. 

The night of their first date, Oliver had decided to be as completely genuine with Felicity as he could be. But his truest self had a bow and arrow in his hand and that wasn’t exactly romantic.  Honestly, he wasn't sure who the _real_ him was.  If not the Arrow, or Ollie, or the CEO…with it all stripped away he felt uncomfortable and lost.

He knew he had wanted to open up to her.  Even back then, Oliver had longed to tell Felicity all his secrets, all the memories that plagued him.  He had craved it actually.  He had also been utterly terrified that she would never look at him the same again after she knew the whole truth... 

The realization hit Oliver like a brick wall.

He froze.

Coming to standstill at the edge of the lake, Oliver stared over the water, seeing nothing.  

Dear God, this must be what an epiphany felt like. 

It was kind of amazing. 

Because Oliver suddenly realized… _all_ of those fears had been laid to rest.   Every stupid worry that had plagued him before that night at the Restaurant. 

Oliver had told Felicity…well, if not _everything_ , then enough.  Enough ugly stories.  Enough of the horrible things he had done those five years away.  Enough for Felicity to see the _real_ him, scars and all.  Inside and out.

Maybe Oliver had been doing the same thing with his physical scars that he had the other day with his mental ones.   Flaunting them.  Exposing Felicity to the worst.  Daring her to find them repulsive.  Waiting for her disgust. 

And despite seeing all of it, every dark, horrific piece, Felicity still loved him.  She _loved_ him.  It was astounding.   It was almost impossible to believe.

It made Oliver feel like he could do anything, be anyone.   It made him want to be the best possible person.  For her. 

And that worry Oliver had about who he was underneath it all…? When the Arrow and Ollie the boy and Mr. Queen the public figure were stripped away…?   His fear that there wasn't really much left with all that was gone?  Well, actually, it turned out there _was_ , because that's the person he had been since he arrived at the Safe House.

And _this_ guy, Oliver, Felicity Smoak’s boyfriend, he actually _liked_ that guy.  Maybe for the first time in his life, he’d found someone he wanted to be.  The person he’d found after being thrown from a mountain and brought to a cabin in the middle of nowhere Texas with the love of his life, a girl the old him would probably have been too stupid to even notice.

So, incredibly, the problem of being distracted by his own insecurity had solved itself.  And the worry over Felicity’s safety, well, that was one distraction that was also an asset.  It was something that would never change nor would Oliver want it to. 

That left only one distraction to worry about.  And that originated in his pants. 

At the moment, Oliver was so fucking sexually frustrated he was surprised he could think of anything at all.   Spending all day and all night in the constant company of his drop-dead gorgeous, sexy as hell girlfriend was making him feel fourteen again, which was appropriate since all they did was neck like goddamn teenagers.   Accept, ironically, Oliver had gone a whole lot further than _this_ before he turned fourteen (again, not proud). 

Not that kissing Felicity wasn't amazing.   It was positively spiritual.  Better than most of the sex Oliver had had.  And that was saying something.   While he wasn't nearly as old as he felt, he'd had more sex than he had a right to, with a fairly vast variety of partners. 

And while Oliver would never claim to be good at relationships, or to know how to be a good boyfriend, the one thing he had complete confidence in was sex. 

Oliver loved women.  He always had.  He loved how they looked, how they felt, how they smelled.  He loved how they were soft and round in all the right places.  And, more than anything, he loved their pleasure.  In high school, he'd thought it might be his one and only talent… making women and girls come so hard they couldn't see straight.  

Even when he was at his most selfish, he was never a selfish lover.  Because Oliver was addicted to the power, to the pleasure, to the moans and looks of adoration, to the knowledge that even though he was a complete asshole, they always came back for more.  Because no one else made them feel _that_ good.

Not that it was hard back before the island.  Oliver's competition wasn't very stiff then, no pun intended.  Most high school guys kind of sucked in bed.  He'd lost count of how many girls he'd given their first orgasms.  He'd been quite proud of being able to give a girl something their boyfriends couldn't.  There was a reason Max Fuller despised him.

Of course, that all changed after the Gambit.  Sex stopped being a game.  He no longer had any desire to manipulate women in that way.  Now, all he wanted was to loose himself in one particularly women.  In reality, it had been that way for years.  Though, it wasn’t until after Sara that he gave up even pretending anyone but Felicity would do.

Over the years, Oliver had imagined kissing Felicity a million times.  He’d imagined sex a whole lot less.   He’d felt guilty fantasizing about his friend and partner in that way.  So, if he’d imagined her moans of ecstasy and those perfect, brightly colored nails digging into his back, it was only in his weakest moments. 

But kissing… _that_ he’d thought and thought and thought about.  He had relived their one kiss in the hospital a thousand times.

So, Oliver didn’t know if it was irony or karma or poetic justice that he was alone with the women he worshiped, she was finally his, and all he could have were kisses.

And so they kissed.  And they kissed.  And they kissed.  They kissed until Oliver could describe the exact contour of Felicity’s lips, until he knew intimately the feel of those tiny wisdom teeth scars against his tongue. 

He knew the warmth of her mouth and smoothness of her teeth and the weight of her tongue.  He knew how she tasted first thing in the morning and last thing at night, after coffee or ice cream or brushing her teeth.  Oliver knew when Felicity wanted to be kissed slow and lazy and how she kissed when she was lost in passion and beginning to lose all control, how their tongues tangled and their teeth clanked. 

They kissed until their lips were swollen, until Oliver’s jaw ached and the beard burn on Felicity’s face and neck never seemed to fade.

Oliver knew that there was a place on her neck, right under her right ear that made her go limp when he applied just the right amount of pressure.  But even better than that, he knew exactly how much suction on her industrial piercing would make Felicity lose all reason.  And he had been really tempted to use that knowledge to push things further.

Because Oliver was oh so ready to start cataloging ever other inch of that delectable body.  And, truthfully, he really wasn’t sure why he hadn’t.

Oh, he understood that he almost died and that he was on “restrictions.”  Restrictions that if Oliver were being honest with himself made sense.  He knew he wasn’t ready to do push-ups and pull-ups and parkour around the property.  He also understood that there were quite a few sexual positions that, at this moment, were off limits.

However, Oliver was also quite sure that if they wanted to, they could progress beyond kissing without any permanent injury.  He was _damn_ creative.  He knew Felicity was too. 

Oliver knew a hundred safe ways to make a women come, if Felicity would only let him show her.  One would think with the amount of motivation they both had, they’d have come up with a solution for this “little problem” before the only permeant injury was the one caused by sustained, unrelieved arousal.

But any attempt to push Felicity’s limits flat-out spooked her.  It made Oliver think that something else was holding her back, because he knew she wanted this.  If the way she writhed in his arms and clung to him was any indication, then she _wanted this_ as much as he did.

Maybe she was still worried that Oliver wasn’t fully committed.  That he was still ready to bail on her to keep her safe.  He really needed to make sure Felicity understood that his decision was made.  All that was left now was for him to find other provisions to keep her safe.

Not that it was going to matter unless Oliver figured out a solution to his frustration issue, because God knew that a crook could plant a hell of a lot more than a bug on him at the moment.  He was no good to anyone right now, not when all he could think about was what Felicity looked like naked (it was grossly unfair that she had seen him mostly naked and he hadn’t even seen her in a bathing suit) and the things that she would moan when she came (God, he hoped she was a screamer.)

The more Oliver thought about it, the more he realized that what was going on now was not sustainable.  They had no idea when ARGUS was going to return.  It could be tomorrow.  One thing he did know was that they were not ready to go home.

Oliver had turned around before he even realized he had made a decision.  He started making his way back to the cabin as quickly as his damn knee would allow.

This reprieve Felicity and he had been given, this tiny piece of paradise was time limited and it was time for Oliver to make the most of it.

It was downright irresponsible not to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I kind of feel guilty that I haven’t posted a chapter in a while and then the first one back is 4000 words of Oliver’s head space. All I can say is I’m going to be earning that “E” rating very soon now. This sets up two chapters that I adore.
> 
> And as a quick shameless plug, I think a lot of people avoided my last story/collection, “Resonance of Sorrow” because it’s sad. I totally understand, because I often avoid Major Character Death stories, since they leave me feeling icky for hours. But it that’s the case, please check out the last chapter/story. It starts of very angsty but ends in marshmallow fluff, the kind we’ll never get in the real show, unfortunately.
> 
> Thanks for reading (and commenting please ;)  
> Emmy


	9. The Plan

By the time Oliver had made his way back inside to the bedroom, he had a plan.   A detailed, fully thought out, plan of attack that he had complete confidence in. 

And, damn, was he looking forward to it.

Oliverwas going to seduce Felicity. He was going to seduce her and he wasn’t going to stop until they were both satisfied. 

Bolstered by the certainty that this was the right thing to do for their relationship and, more importantly, Felicity’s safety, as well as the surety that it could be carried out without any physical injury to himself, Oliver was now focused in on said plan with a single-minded intensity.

And he had absolute faith in the success of this endeavor.  It was going to be awesome.

Felicitywas still asleep when Oliver reached the bedroom.  She was curled up on his side of the bed, hugging his pillow tightly to her chest.

The sight took Oliver off guard, making him pause as a wave of emotion washed over him.  He had to close his eyes to re-center himself, overcome with protectiveness, love.  God, she was so beautiful.

He approached the bed slowly, gingerly, and sat on the edge, watching Felicity breathe for a moment.  Just looking at her, Oliver felt at peace, less rushed.  But no less determined.  Oh, fuck no.  There was simply a deep certainty that this, all of this, was _right_. 

Oliver ran a finger across the curve of her cheek, watching Felicity’s eyelids flutter and her nose twitch.  He felt the corners of his lips tug upward at the sight and he used to pads of his fingers to trace her hairline from to ear to ear.

Felicity hummed, “Hmmm,” as he knew she would and curled into his touch like a cat, her eyes never opening.

Curling his hand around her nape, Oliver smiled at the warm flood of affection that washed over him again.  As selfish as it was, part of him never wanted to leave this place, wanted to stay like this, here, forever.  He pressed a lingering kiss on her cheek, breathing Felicity in and feeling the subtle stretch of her muscles bellow him, before teasing her neck with his stubble.  He waited for the shiver he knew was coming, before dragging his lips from her cheekbone to her ear.

“Mmm, Oliver…”

Her husky groan sent a shot of arousal straight to his groin.  Oliver had been half-hard just imagining what he was going to do to her, but that sound and the knowledge that he had no intention of letting Felicity get away with stopping this time, had him rock hard in seconds.

Oliver sucked in a deep lung full of air through his nose, refocusing himself, reminding himself that, for the time being anyway, this was all about her.  His beautiful Felicity.

Her eyelids fluttered again and Oliver gently nipped her earlobe, running his tongue over the fleshy part then working his way up the outside shell.  Then he pulled out the big guns.  Taking the tip of her industrial piercing between his teeth, he pulled just the tiniest bit before applying suction.  Instantly, Felicity was bucking and moaning. 

“ _Oliver_.” 

Her eyes snapped open and she turned toward him, reaching for him.  Full on grinning now, Oliver allowed her to clumsily draw him into a lazy, early morning kiss.  Felicity closed her hands around the sides of his head, fingers splayed wide, gulfing him. 

The way Felicity was parting his lips and licking her way into his mouth was rushed and uncoordinated and slightly desperate.  Oliver loved every second of it.  He adored her like this and was learning just how to push her there fast.  The industrial piercing was his secret weapon.

Cupping her cheek, Oliver took back control, coaxing her into a slow and lazy duel of tongues, not letting her get them too out of control, too quick.  He breathed her in, smiling into their kiss. 

For Oliver, it felt different that morning.  Gone was the desperate, oh-my-god-is-this-really-happening, seize-the-moment-because-someone-is-going-to-steal-it feeling.  It felt less new.  Less frantic.  He felt more…certain.  Comfortable.  Happy.  All fairly new emotions for Oliver.  Every one a blessing.

And this morning, Oliver reveled in the completely confidence that _this_ time, _this_ kiss, was not going to end with kissing.   

For a brief moment, Oliver allowed himself to be tempted by Felicity and the soft warmth of the first bed he truly enjoyed in eight long years.  He considered climbing in next to her, carrying on his seduction here, but he had to remind himself that he had a plan and it was a good plan.  A plan that, frankly, had a far better chance of success than seducing her here in the place where they had begun and stopped dozens of time in the last two weeks.

It was going to be a delicate endeavor, Oliver was aware.  Enticing Felicity into forgetting her fears and worries was going to take a careful touch and a bit of finagling.  _Persuading_.   

Oliver pulled back, capturing Felicity’s bottom lip as he did so, ending the kiss with a gentle nip and suck.

Felicity blinked her eyes open and stretched.   A lazy smile spread across her sleepy face as she ran her palms over Oliver’s stubbly cheeks.  “Mmm, morning.” 

Returning her smile, Oliver gazed down at her expressive face, knowing he was looking at her like the love sick fool he was.  This was what he wanted to see  every morning for the rest of his life.  He’d never been so sure of anything.

Kissing her cheek, Oliver put his plan in motion, whispering, “Felicity…”  He rubbed his face into the space between her chin and neck, nuzzling.  “I’m gonna take a shower, I need you to.”  Nip.   Kiss.  “Wrap my cast.” 

He was running his lips over her chin when Felicity murmured, her voice thick, “Mmm, can’t it wait?”

She pulled him back in for another kiss, her nails carding through his shirt hair.  But Oliver was clear on his agenda this time and kept the kiss shallow, controlling it with gentle nips and sucks, not letting her coax his tongue back into play as she clearly wanted.

Felicity made adorable little huffs and groans of frustration, making Oliver chuckle as dragged his lips back across her face, to rest against her neck.

“I’m sweaty.  I smell,” Oliver insisted, knowing he wasn’t nearly as sweaty as he has been or could be.

“Mmm, I like you sweaty,” Felicity whined, trying to pull him into bed with her.  “I like the way you smell.”

Oliver laughed again, a deep rumble.  “Baby, I’ll get sweaty with you any time, but right now I want a shower.”

He sat up, pulling away from her until only his hand was left cupping her cheek and watched as she became fully awake.  He knew when she had joined him in full alertness, because her eyes widened and a blush covered her chest.  Oliver chuckled, imagining what dirty thoughts were running through her busy mind to cause a blush like that. 

Taking a hold of her hand, Oliver pulled her up.  “Come on, baby.  I need your help.”

Felicity yawned, allowing herself to be pulled up easily.  It must be the lack of morning coffee, because she would usually complain about Oliver putting out that much physical effort.  She was very protective of his abs.  Though it wasn’t as if she weighed more than a feather.

“`Is early?” she asked sleepily.

“Later than usual.”  Oliver got her to her feet and pulled Felicity into his arms so he could whisper in her ear, “I missed you at sunrise.”  It was amazing how easy the truth was becoming, how it had started to slip out naturally.

Felicity’s response was to melt into his body, burrowing her head under his chin and wrapping her arms under his and up over his shoulders. 

It felt so good, so peaceful, that Oliver just stood there for long moments, swaying them both side to side.  When was the last time he enjoyed an embrace in of itself?  Not for sex or for comfort or even as a greeting?  But just because.

It wasn’t until Felicity tipped her head back to smile up at him that Oliver had the urge to move.  He pressed a kiss on her warm lips and reached over to grab her glasses from the side table before pulling her into the bathroom.  He wanted her to be able to see for this.  For the first part, anyway.

The bathroom was large and spacious.  It was clearly designed as a handicap space, though Oliver tried not to think that he was the one ‘handicapped’ in this scenario.  It had enough marble and chrome that it looked more like an expensive hotel bathroom than a hospital bath so it was easier to ignore the real reason it was so roomy, why the shower was huge, with a bench and handles, and  to pretend the bench in front the vanity was to put on makeup and not to fix braces and bandages.

But the bright, cozy room reminded Oliver of the plans he’d come up with on the walk back to the cabin and he fell into the script like it was second nature.  Carefully schooling himself not to grin too wide, he let go of Felicity and walked to the center of the room, pulling off his shirt as he did so.

Felicity let out a little squeal and blinked owlishly at him.  Oliver was aware that he wasn’t really playing fair.  She was barely awake, hadn’t even been allowed a cup of coffee, and he was changing their protocol.  Not a lot.  Just enough to put her off balance.  No, it really wasn’t fair of him.

Oliver grinned as he watched her eyes wander over his chest, knowing she had seen it dozens of times before but rarely when she had permission to look like she did now.  And, as far as he was concerned, Felicity could look to her heart’s content.

His bandages had been removed, now there was just another sharp red line across his ribs and back to join the others, not fully healed, but getting there fast.  Felicity licked her lips as her gaze dragged over his chest, feeling like a caress.  Again, Oliver marveled on how there wasn’t even a trace of disgust on her face when looking at the scars, not even the tiniest wince.

The way Felicity accepted him exactly as he was, loved him even more because of it, it was the most powerful thing in his life.

Oliver kicked off his boots and pulled over the short bench until it was only an arm’s length in front of her.  Sitting, he handed Felicity a roll of saran wrap and smiled up at her.  He knew it was a smile dripping in sex.  He’d perfected it long ago.  But this time, there wasn’t a trace of artifice.  How could there be when she was all he could think about?

Felicity sucked in a breath, making a whistling sound as she took the wrap, almost as if in slow motion.  Oliver curled her hand around the roll to make sure it didn’t fall to the floor before he let go.  Then, he waited until her eyes were on his, before dragging his eyes over her, wanting her to feel his gaze the way he’d felt hers.

His eyes lingered on Felicity’s tight tank top, took in the short pajama bottoms, and trailed over her shapely legs.  God, Oliver couldn’t wait to get his hands on her.  His fingers twitched with the effort to keep from touching her and he curled his good hand over the edge of the bench to remind him to wait for the right time.

Oliver held out the casted arm and tried to school his face into an innocent expression.  “Please.”

He may not have quite pulled off the simultaneously sexy and innocent thing he was trying for, either that, or Felicity was just too smart for him, because she tilted her head, giving Oliver a smile that said he was a puzzle she was determined to crack.  But she grabbed the plastic wrap and expertly began covering his cast.

Almost of it’s own volition, his other hand crept up and around her waist, pulling Felicity between his legs so he could press a soft kiss on her stomach.  That wasn’t part of the plan, but improvising was good too.  Sometimes one just had to run with their instincts, right?

“Is something up, Oliver?” Felicity questioned.

There wasn’t even a hint of a leer in her voice, so Oliver knew Felicity had no idea what she had just said.  He stifled a laugh on her belly and looked up at her with raised eyebrows.  “Pretty much always these days,” he quipped.

He could tell the exact moment when Felicity caught on, because she wrinkled her nose and rolled her eyes at him, smacking him lightly on the shoulder.  Oliver could do nothing but grin up at her, delighted.

“Oliver,” Felicity gritted out, but with little heat, “you take way too much pleasure in the things that come out of my mouth.”

This time, Oliver didn’t even bother to try and hide his laugh, just let it flow over and through him.  “Yes.  Yes, I do.”

Felicitysqueezed her eyes shut.  “I’m going to stop now.”

But Oliver hugged her tighter and shook his head against her stomach, telling her in complete honesty, “I would really rather you didn’t.”

That earned him a soft smile, even if Felicity was shaking her head in an exasperated manner.  “Seriously, Oliver, is something….?”

Felicity trailed off.  Clearly she was realizing he was up to something, because _genius_. But that was ok.  Oliver just needed to keep her off balance for a few more minutes.

“What?” Oliver prompted, all innocence.

“I dunno…” Felicity tore off the end of the plastic wrap and tossed the roll onto the vanity.  “How was your walk?  Something seems—?”

“I’ve had better,” Oliver responded easily enough. “I told you.  I missed you.”

That earned Oliver a light kiss as Felicity ran her hands over the plastic covered cast, making sure every bit was covered and lay flat.  Oliver was really hoping she’d be running her hands over his bare skin soon, though he appreciated the effort with the cast.  He’d grown rather fond of the thing with its brightly covered art work.  Though, he would certainly prefer it in a case in the Liar instead of on his arm.

When Felicity finished and started to step back, Oliver immediately asked, “Help me take off the brace?”

The look Felicity shot him was definitely suspicious this time and with good reason. Oliver was usually very stubborn about trying to work the stupid thing himself, even if it was really awkward with his arm in a cast.  It had led to muttered curses and multiple squabbles.

Thankfully, Felicity didn’t argue this time, despite the look she was shooting him.  Instead, she got down on one knee to reach around Oliver’s thigh to work the Velcro fastenings. 

Oliver’s hand fell to Felicity’s extremely messy ponytail.  It was amazing it was still in, actually, what with last night’s activities and sleeping in it, but he twisted it around his hand the way he’d imagined a million times.  The brown was starting to wash out and he could see the gold shining through in streaks of highlights.

Was it bad that he missed the blond?  It felt wrong, misogynistic or something, and Felicity would be beautiful with purple hair if she so chose, but she was a blond the first time Oliver saw her and it… it just seemed to exemplify her, bright and shinning like the sun.  God, he was turning into such a sap.

“Are you taking off my socks?” Oliver asked, surprised and amused when he felt her hands run over his now bare feet.

Felicity blushed again, she certainly had a blonde’s fair skin.  “I was right here.  Seemed silly to have you bend over and take off your socks after I went through all the trouble with the brace.”  Clearly embarrassed, she sprung to her feet and turned away from him, going over to start the shower.

Here they go.  Show time.

Oliver stood and waited for Felicity to turn back to face him.  As soon as she did, he pulled down his jogging pants and boxer-briefs, kicking them aside.

“Oliver!” Felicity squealed, her hand flying up to cover her mouth.  But not her eyes, he noticed with a grin.

He gave her a full minute to take it all in.  As much as she joked about seeing him half naked, it was always that, _half_.  Felicity had never gotten the… _opportunity_ to see Oliver in all him, ehhm, glory.  Which he most certainly was now.  Felicity’s eyes rested on his erection for just a moment before her gaze skittered away.

Oliver took that as he que.  He stepped around her and into the shower.  Then, before Felicity could catch her bearings, he grabbed her arm and yanked her in after him, sliding the door quickly shut behind them.

“Oliver!  What the hell—”

Spinning her around, Oliver pulled Felicity to him so they were both under the warm spray.  His casted arm around her waist, locking them together, he slammed his mouth down onto hers.  He quickly used his good hand to divest her of glasses and hair-tie, placing them on the ledge so he could tangle his hand in her hair.  

Using Felicity’s shock to his advantage, Oliver angled her head to achieve maximum contact.  He didn’t want Felicity to think.  That was the point. 

One last squeak emerged from their joined lips, before it turned into a moan and her hands fluttered up to land on his chest.  Aligning their lips and opening hers, Oliver immediately swept his tongue inside to seduce hers to play.  At first, Felicity mostly just took it, opening her mouth wide and allowing him to plunder as she moaned her encouragement.

There was a second when she started to protest, to push Oliver back, so he captured her ear between his thumb and forefinger, rolling the industrial piercing between his fingers.   Felicity melted.  He won.  Oliver would have crowed if he wasn’t so busy ravaging her with his tongue.

The fight went out of her, her muscles loosening.  The tide turned as Felicity sucked his tongue into her mouth, meeting it with her own.  Oliver pulled her up until she was on her toes and she let him.  She felt tiny without her six inch heels and pulling her to her toes had the dual roles of bringing her more flush with his body and putting her off balance so she had to curl one arm around his neck to hold on, while the other hand dug into his bicep.

Oliver let his good hand wander down her back until it rested on her fantastic ass.  Cursing having only one hand to really touch her with, he made the best of what he had.  Using the cast to keep Felicity glued to him, he ran his good hand over her soaked shorts and up under her wet shirt to her bare back and pulling her in further, pressing them together, her pelvis and soft belly coming into full and direct contact with his cock. 

Oliver groaned.

Felicity yelped, turning her mouth away, panting.  Oliver persevered, moving on to her chin, working his way swiftly back up to her ear.

“No, no,” Felicity gasped, giving Oliver mixed messages as she clung to him while simultaneously pulling her head away from his ravaging mouth.  “You stay away from that ear, mister.  Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing!”

Oliver laughed, because even when she was frustrating, Felicity was adorable.  He gave in and stopped trying to shut her up, though he kept her pressed up against him as close as was humanly possible, because… God, _because_.

“What are you doing?” Felicity panted as soon as Oliver let her breathe.  “You know we’re not allowed to—”

Oliver cut off the old tired argument.  “We _can_.  Baby, I’m _fine_.”    He clasped Felicity’s hand, pulling it from around his neck and letting her fall onto the heels of her feet.  He pressed her hand flat against his abdomen.  “See.  Perfectly relaxed.  Nothing against doctors’ orders.”

“Oh _God_ ,” Felicity whimpered and Oliver could see her fighting for self-control as she stared at her own hand.  It started rubbing wet circles against the ridges of his abdomen.  “You’re making this soo _hard_.”

Grinning, Oliver immediately returned, “No, baby, you are.”

Felicity made a noise that was half-groan, half-giggle, and her forehead fell against Oliver’s chest.  “That was terrible. If this is how you’re going to respond to every one of my slip-ups from now on, Roy and Digg are going to revolt.”

Oliver pressed a kiss to the top of her head and cradled it against him, smiling against her hair.  “We’re not in the foundry.  We’re alone.  In the middle of nowhere, alone.  And I’d really like to take advantage of that fact while we can.”

Sighing, Felicity tipped her head back and blinked up at him as water rained down on her face.  Oliver curled himself over her to keep the shower from her eyes, wondering how well she could make him out without her glasses anyway.

“Oliver, you know we’re not supposed to—”

“ _Felicity_ ,” Oliver dropped a quick peck on her upturned mouth, “if you really don’t want to do anything more, tell me now, but if your only concern is for my health, I promise we _can_ and _will_ work around that.”

Her eyelids fluttered and Felicity swayed toward him just a bit.  “God, you know I _want_ you—”

“Then _have_ me, Felicity.”

Oliver dove back in for another, deep, deep kiss.  This one went from zero to sixty and didn’t pass go, Felicity being fully involved, more so than before.  Oliver’s hand was tangled in hair in a way that he worried might be painful, but he was quickly spiraling out of control as he bent her back over his casted arm.

Felicity had one hand pressing tightly against his abs and the other buried in his short hair, yanking on the wet strands.  Their tongues tousled.  They were so close that their teeth clanked.  There was a slight edge of pain that felt fantastic. 

But it was going fast, almost too fast.  Oliver pulled back, gasping for breath.

It wasn’t until Felicity dropped back on to the flat of her feet that he realized that he had had her back on her toes.  She collapsed against his chest, her cheek over Oliver’s heart and her arms circling him as she gasped for air.

“Are you sure we should do…whatever it is we’re about to do?” Felicity asked breathlessly, not looking at him.  “I don't want you to—”

“Felicity,” Oliver was getting tired of this argument, honestly.  He rucked Felicity’s shirt up over her back and whispered in her ear, “I promise not to lift you up and fuck you against that wall, if that makes you feel better.”

Felicity's breath hissed and her knees buckled.  “ _God_.  Oliver.”

He tightened his hold to keep Felicity from sliding on the slippery floor as her muscles went limp and chuckled, murmuring, “Not today anyway.”

“Yes, please.”

“ _Christ_.”

Oliver captured her lips again, desperately.  Damn, what this woman did to him.  Felicity was constantly surprising him in the most awesome of ways.  Like how she was the one to tilt his head and pull him closer, opening her mouth as wide as it could go, drawing his tongue in for another soul-shattering, teeth-mashing kiss.  Damn that tongue was talented.  She was too much.

“You're playing with fire,” Oliver warned when they finally parted, panting and gasping. 

Felicity laughed breathlessly, pushing her wet hair out of her eyes and shaking it behind her.  “ _I'm_ playing with fire?  You, _you're_ trying to seduce me!”

Oliver laughed again, throwing his head back.  God, this was wonderful.  He couldn't remember being with someone being this much fun.  “Is it working?”

She rolled her eyes.  “You know it is.  I've been standing in a shower in my pajamas for at least ten minutes, haven't I?” Felicity pressed an open-mouthed kiss against his chest, her tongue flicking out to capture a droplet of water as in trailed down. “And against my better judgement too.”

Wrapping both arms around Felicity as far as they would go, Oliver held her to him.  “Do you know what I was thinking while I was taking my walk this morning?”

Felicity dragged her lips and tongue over the contours of Oliver's Bratva tattoo, making him hiss.  “I dunno.   Don't you usually go over battle strategies or something?”

Oliver laughed out loud.   “Often.  But no.  Not this morning.”

“And brood.” Felicity grinned up at him, cheekily.  “You brood out there, right?”

“Ahh…” This time, Oliver he didn't know whether to laugh or blush.   It was almost disconcerting, sometimes, how well Felicity knew him.  “Not this morning.  Well…no, not really.”

Nuzzling him, Felicity tipped her head to the side and asked, “So, what else do you think about?”

Oliver thought the answer to that was obvious.  “You.”  Felicity sobered for a minute, holding him tightly.  “Actually, I was thinking about our first date and how I pulled away after.”

Felicity frowned up at him, her nose wrinkling.  “That sounds an awful lot like brooding.”

She just kept making him laugh.  “I can see how it sounds that way.”  Oliver pressed a wet kiss on Felicity’s shoulder.  “But, I was,” another kiss, with a bite of teeth this time, “problem solving.”

“Problem solving?”

“Yup.” Oliver pushed the strap to her tank down to continue lavishing attention on her shoulder.

Felicity’s eyes fluttered closed, her nails raking across his back.  “And what problem were you trying to solve?”

Oliver straightened up a bit, smoothing Felicity’s soaked hair back from her forehead.  It was a good thing this place seemed to have unlimited hot water.  He hadn't really planned on having a long conversation in here.  But it worked.  There was something intimate and soothing about the spray of the warm water and the steady sound of the shower drowning out everything but them.

“Do you know why I did that?” Oliver asked.  “Pushed you away?”

“Because you were stupid?” came the cheeky reply.

Oliver sunk his teeth into Felicity’s neck as retribution.  And to keep from laughing and encouraging her too much.  “It could be argued.  But, believe it or not, I had some pretty good reasons.”

She hummed skeptically, but was clearly preoccupied by Oliver working to sooth the delicate skin he had just bitten.  “Because you thought you couldn’t be the Arrow and be with me?” Felicity’s tone was half-dubious, half-distracted.

Reaching over to push the other strap down, Oliver prompted, “Yes, but do you know why I felt that way?”

Felicity shook her head. “I just keep going back to the stupid thing.”

That earned her another bite.  This time on her chin.

“Are you going to bite me every time I call you out on something?”

Oliver smothered a chuckle, only half succeeding.  “Maybe.”  He worked on soothing the newly irritated flesh.  “But, only when we’re alone, I think.  Don’t think Digg and Roy would approve.”

Felicity burst out laughing, the musical sound echoing through the shower and Oliver grinned broadly, envisioning that she had the same images of him biting her in the middle of a fight in the Liar.

“Actually…”  Oliver worked to slowly bring both straps down.  It would be so much smoother without the damn plastic-lined cast.  “It’s because you distract me.”  He kissed her quickly, because that seemed to emphasize his point.  “And when I’m distracted, I lose my edge.”

“And being unhappy helps you focus?”

The urge to bite again was strong.  “Touché,” Oliver said, instead, and ran his lips across the top of Felicity’s chest above her dripping shirt, taking care to tease the skin with his stubble.  “Now pay attention.”

Felicity laughed again, gripping his head and protesting, “I’m _trying_.”

“Exactly.  Sexual tension and anticipation are damn distracting.”

“Oliver—”

“So, I think the most prudent use of our time here would be to work through those things.”

“Oliver, are you claiming that having sex will make you a better Arrow?” Felicity gasped incredulously.

“Yup.”   Oliver took advantage of her distraction to push Felicity’s shirt down until it landed with a plop at her feet.

Oliver had to take a moment, leaning back so he could take her in.  Felicity’s breasts were small, but perfect, round and smooth and…just _perfect_ , with flawless pink tips, puckered and tight, water collecting on the peaks. 

“God, you’re so beautiful.”  Oliver reached to cup them, forgetting about the goddamn cast until the last second, only able to brush the sides with the tips of his fingers on that side.

“Oliver?”

He dragged his eyes back to hers, surprised by how unsure Felicity sounded and was troubled to see the same look in her eyes.  With great difficulty, and no little reverence, Oliver ran his hands from her breasts to her waist, pulling her against him.

Felicity’s hands were shaking and confused, fluttering uncertainly until they finally landed on Oliver’s shoulders.

He pressed a kiss to her lips, trying to reassure.  But when he pulled back Felicity looked almost…scared.  “Felicity, baby, I’m…you know I’m not leaving you.  I’m fully committed.”

Her expression melted, but still Oliver grappled with what was going on, because now Felicity looked like she was about to cry. 

Felicity reached up and ran her palms over his stubble.  “Oliver, I…I love you _so_ much.”

He easily gave in to the pressure she used on his short hair (getting less short now) to pull his mouth back down to hers and for a moment Oliver got lost in the sensation of her soft, wet breasts pressed against his chest for the first time, the drag of her pebbled nipples across his skin as she kissed the living daylights out of him, making him throb and clutch her closer.

It took a few minutes for Oliver to realize that something had changed in her kiss.  Felicity had become simultaneously more desperate and more unsure.

When Oliver pulled back, Felicity fought him, pulling at him and following until she couldn’t any more.  Using his height to his advantage, he disengaged and looked into her eyes.  His heart clenched.

“Something is still wrong.  What is it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just the start of the "E." Fully "E" in the next chapter...next couple actually. Let me know what you think. Smut is hard.


	10. Gods and Goddesses

It took a few minutes for Oliver to realize that something had changed in her kiss.  Felicity had become simultaneously more desperate and more unsure.

 

When Oliver pulled back, she fought him, pulling at him and following until she couldn’t any more.  Using his height to his advantage, Oliver disengaged and looked into Felicity’s eyes.  His heart clenched.

 

“Something is still wrong.  What is it?”

 

Felicity shook her head. “Nothing’s wrong.”

 

But Oliver knew Felicity was lying by the way her eyes shifted away and wouldn’t meet his.  He kept trying to catch her gaze, but her response was to step back and reach for the shower door. 

 

“Oh, no, you don’t.”  Oliver pulled her back, hugging her tightly enough that she couldn’t escape.

 

Oliver was really starting to worry now.  Was _Felicity_ starting to have second thoughts?  Had been he wrong to be so confident?

 

“There’s something more than my injuries holding you back.”  Oliver swallowed, tucking her head under her chin and trying to control his breathing.  His fears had to be irrational, didn’t they?  “I thought it was…” He had thought she was unsure of his commitment.  He hadn’t thought he’d have to worry hers. 

 

“Come on, baby, you can tell me anything,” he pleaded, but Felicity stayed quiet.  Felicity was never quiet.  Oliver was honest-to-god starting to freak out here.  “Felicity, baby, _please_ …”

 

She must have heard the edge of desperation in his voice because, finally, Felicity spoke.  It was said directly into a pectoral muscle and was fairly muffled, but Oliver could just make it out. “It’s stupid.”

 

“Felicity, you are seriously starting to scare me here.”

 

“It’s dumb,” Felicity insisted, digging her fingers into Oliver’s back.  “I’m being dumb and it’s kinda humiliating, so—”

 

“Felicity, if there is one thing you could never be, it’s dumb.”  Oliver was sure he could be more empathetic if he wasn’t trying to stave off a panic attack.

 

“That’s not true , I—” Enough.  Time to address this head on.  Squeezing his eyes shut and hugging Felicity to him, Oliver forced himself to say, “Look, if you’re having a second thoughts—?”

 

“What?  About what?”  Finally, Felicity looked up at him, her nose wrinkling and her eyes squinting.  She reached up and turned his face down to hers. “You know I can’t make you out that well without my glasses, right?  Do you mean…second thoughts about _us_?”

 

Felicity’s voice sounded incredulous enough that Oliver found the strength to nod, bending down so their faces were closer.

 

“No!” Felicity burst out.  “God _no_ …it’s nothing like that…really, completely, _nothing_ even a little tiny bit like that.  _No_.”

 

Thank God.  Oliver just knew his thoughts were irrational.  “Then what?”  He smiled down at Felicity reassuringly and stroked her back, suddenly finding it a lot easier to be sympathetic to whatever was bothering her.

 

Felicity let out a frustrated half-groan, half-moan and closed her eyes again, mumbling into his pec, “I just don’t want you to be disappointed.”

 

“What was that?” Oliver was pretty sure he must have misheard her.

 

This time, Felicity’s frustration was more blatant.  She pulled back, rolling her eyes and gritting out, “ _God_ , Oliver.  I just don’t want you to be disappointed.”

 

“In what?”  Now, Oliver really felt lost.  Felicity was yelling and making no sense.  He’d almost forgotten how irrational women could be.

 

“Now who’s being obtuse?” Felicity barked.

 

Why was he being insulted?  All Oliver could do was frown down at her and shake his head.  He was beginning to realize that there was no ‘right’ thing for him to say.

 

“In me,” Felicity finally confessed with a huff, bordering on using her loud voice.  “I don’t want you to be disappointed in _me_.  I’m clumsy and not at all an athlete like all your other girlfriends.  I’m lucky that I’m naturally thin, because I work out quite minimally and your last girlfriend could have won Olympic metals and don’t shake your head at me.  You insisted.  You wanted to know, so now you know, and you’re going to have to listen to me, goddamn it.  I don’t have a boatload of sex god experience like you.  So, maybe I’m feeling a little self-conscious, ok?  Are you smiling?  _You’re smiling_!  I swear to God, Oliver—”

 

But Oliver’s grin turned into a full blown laugh.  He just couldn’t help it, even though it earned him a whack on the shoulder.  He probably deserved it.  But he really didn’t care.  Let her hit him, it didn’t hurt anyway.  Thank God that was all that was bothering her!

 

“ _Ol-i-v-er_ , I’m baring my soul here—”

 

“I’m sorry.  I’m sorry,” Oliver rushed to reassure, still laughing as he hugged Felicity closer and pressed a kiss on her forehead.  “I’m just _relieved_.  Is that _all_ you’re upset about?”

 

That earned Oliver an honest-to-god punch.  Again, probably deserved.  Again, really didn’t hurt.

 

“I didn’t mean _all_ … I meant, God, I thought you were having second thoughts and it turned out to be just…” Oliver managed to cut himself off before he dug himself in deeper.  The furrow in Felicity’s brow was only deepening and he knew he’d better change his tact fast.  “Felicity, I couldn’t _possibly_ be disappointed in you.”

 

Felicity narrowed her eyes at him, skeptical.  Though, maybe she was just squinting again. 

 

Frowning, Oliver eased her backwards so that the shower was hitting his back and was out of her face.  Grabbing her glasses, he perched them back on her nose.  “Ok, look me in the eye.”

 

Oliver smiled and waited until she did, feeling confident again that he could get them back on track.  Felicity blinked her eyes to focus and bit her lip nervously. 

 

“Baby, I can honestly say that you have already been among the best sexual experiences of my life and we’ve barely gotten to second base.” 

 

Felicity scoffed, but Oliver just raised his eyebrows in challenge, looking into her eyes and daring her to call him a liar.  He could tell the exact moment that she believed him because her shoulders relaxed and her eyes softened.

 

“And…as for your so called lack of experience,” Oliver continued, trying not to be distracted by the way she was sucking on her lower lip. “I don’t care if you slept with a hundred guys or if you are a virgin, though, to be honest, I’d probably prefer the later, since it’s becoming clear that I have a disgustingly irrational jealousy streak when it comes to you and the thought of you with another man makes me want to start knocking faces in.”

 

That finally brought Felicity’s smile back.    “I don’t think face knocking will be necessary,” she giggled.  “And I am _not_ a virgin, thank you very much.  I just don’t have your...I’m just not…” She waved her hand toward him awkwardly, making Oliver smirk.

 

“A sex god?”

 

Felicity scowled.  “Don’t be smug.”

 

Oliver kind of was, actually.  Smug.  And giddy with relief.  And _so_ very ready to show her how very _not_ disappointed he was. 

 

Still smiling, Oliver pressed a lingering kiss on Felicity’s cheek, her chin, right below her ear.  “Here’s the thing,” he whispered, nipping her ear.  “If I have my way, by the time we leave here, we will know each other’s bodies inside out.  Every scar.”  He ran his nails over the scar on her shoulder.  “Every sensitive patch of skin.”  He blew on the skin bellow her ear and watched her shudder.  “Every erotic zone.”  He ran his tongue over her industrial piercing.  “I plan on learning a dozen different ways to make you come.  Every experience before this is going to seem like it was from another lifetime.”

 

Felicity whimpered, her head arched back, and her eyes closed.  “You know,” she murmured in a deep, sinfully sexy voice that Oliver felt directly in his cock.  “Sometimes, you are a bit of a Neanderthal.”

 

Grinning, Oliver plucked her glasses back off of her nose, pressing kisses on her temple and nose as he did so.  “No.  Not a Neanderthal.”  Once the glasses were gone, he took the opportunity to slant his mouth back over hers and plunder her mouth again, getting back where they were before quickly with deep toe-curling strokes of his tongue.  “ _A sex god_.” 

 

Felicity groaned in a more exasperated than sexy way, while Oliver couldn’t help but chuckle at his own joke.  She went to hit him again, but her heart was clearly not in it as the ‘hit’ quickly turned into a caress as she roughly rubbed his shoulders and chest. 

 

“I’m never going to live that comment down, am I?” Felicity moaned.

 

“Nope.”  Oliver could feel that new and unfamiliar feeling of happiness bubbling up from deep inside his chest and pressed another quick kiss to her lips.

 

“You know ‘sex god’ is a lot to live up to.  If you’re going to tease me about it, you’re gonna have to deliver—”  


“Guess, I’d better get started then.”  Before Felicity had a chance to react, Oliver had her back against the tile, his good hand on her shoulder, his not-so-good hand on her hip, and had swooped down to capture one pert nipple in his mouth.

 

“Mmph,” Felicity squealed in shock, but she arched up onto her toes, allowing him to slip his casted arm around the small of her back and pull her up for better access.  “ _God_ , Oliver.”

 

He allowed himself a small smile around her flesh, before his full focus zeroed in on the task at hand.  For a moment, Oliver just indulged his desire to just _feel_ her, to breathe in Felicity’s clean fresh sent and taste the pebbled flesh as he rhythmically sucked on the tip, enjoying the soft smooth skin against his lips and the texture against his tongue.  

 

It had been a long time since Oliver had had any desire to savor a woman.  Honestly, it been a damn long time since he'd been with any woman at all.  But for a very long time, sex had been a means to an end.  One of the few things that stopped the dark, racing thoughts.  A time to stop thinking all together.  A way to vent pent up passion and aggression. 

 

Yet, somehow, even though he'd never had more _pent up passion_ than he had for Felicity, with her, turning off his brain was the last thing he wanted.  Oliver wanted to memorize her.   Categorize her.  _Learn_ her.

 

Maybe the difference was, before, the passion came from all the fucking crap Oliver spent so much time trying to contain.  Pain.  Fear.  Anger.  Frustration.  All bubbling under the surface.  But with Felicity, the passion came from nothing but her.  Instead of pain, it was love and, dear God, happiness. 

 

Damn, it was humbling.

 

Oliver dragged his mouth across Felicity’s skin to the neglected breast, using his good hand to cup and sooth the one he left behind.  His lips closed around it’s twin’s pebbled flesh, alternating sucking the nipple, pressing it to the roof of his mouth, and flicking it with his tongue.  His thumb and forefinger found the nub of her left breast and rolled it.

 

Felicity let out a long high pitched keen at the duel assault and her knees gave out, forcing Oliver to tighten the arm around her back to hold her up.  The urge to lift her off the ground to get a better angle was overwhelming.

 

At the moment, Oliver fully felt his body could handle it, but he knew Felicity would put an end to this immediately if he pushed it too far.  His back was bowed but couldn’t reach…fuck, she was too short or this.  Or he was too tall.  If it wasn’t for his goddamn injuries...

 

Frustrated, Oliver stood to his full height, letting her nipple fall from his lips with a pop.  He spun Felicity and dragged her back against his body, plastering her back to his front.  Again, he felt thwarted as his cast came in contact with her soft belly and not his flesh, he couldn’t imagine that plastic wrap felt very sexy.

 

“Now remember when judging my sex god status, that I only have one good arm at the moment,” Oliver warned.

 

Felicity laughed breathlessly, tilting her head back to rest on Oliver’s shoulder.  “What are you—?”

 

“Shhhh.  Relax.”  Oliver put the restrictions out of his mind and just enjoyed the feel of Felicity pressed against him, using his good hand to feel as much of her skin as he could.  “Just let me take care of you for a change.”

 

“You always take—”

 

She broke off as Oliver’s fingers found the edge of her sodden shorts and quickly pushed them to the floor, kicking them away and removing the last barrier between them, making Felicity whimper as her eyes flutter closed.

 

With his arm under her breasts, Oliver held Felicity tightly to him.  He tried to make the most of the fingertips emerging from the cast, using them to draw circles over the side of her breast.  His good hand he flattened over her stomach, inching down.  Nuzzling her hair out of the way, he kissed her neck and the shell of her ear and watched its progression.

 

From this position, their height difference was an advantage.  As Felicity leaned back against his chest, Oliver had the perfect view.  He could see every expression that flitted across her gorgeous, expressive face as his hand inched downward over her wet belly to find a different kind of wetness.

 

Felicity's body was incredible from this angle, the hot water cascading over her perfectly shaped breasts with their perfect rosy tips.  Her smooth belly had just a hint of roundness.  Not a trace of fat, but neither did it have any of the harsh muscle ridges that Oliver had come to associate with the hard life he lived.

 

She was his softness, and God, Oliver wanted her to stay that way.  Clean and unscarred and pure.  Smooth and supple and soft. 

 

Oliver's lips found the scar on her shoulder, laving it with his tongue.  He knew Felicity was proud of it, but that didn’t stop him from wishing, on some level, that he could just kiss it away.  That her only scars were the ridges in back of her mouth that he could search out with his tongue.

 

That thought made Oliver crave her mouth.  With careful pressure on Felicity’s jaw and a gentle tug of her hair he tipped her head back and curled over her, reclaiming her lips.  Her mouth was already open and gasping, her body pliable as the fingers of his good hand inched through the closely trimmed curls between her legs.

 

Oliver wasted no time sweeping his tongue inside her mouth, immediately searching out the back, giving those scars the same treatment he gave the one on her shoulder, but enjoying it infinitely more.  By the cadence of her moans, Felicity seemed to agree.  The depth of the kiss was incredible, sending a new wave of fire through his blood, turning and burning low in his groin.

 

Felicity’s hand reached up and over Oliver’s head, threading into his hair and pulling him in as close as he could come, moaning and sucking on his tongue, telling him without words that she could feel the same fire. 

 

Oliver spread his hand wide, curling his fingers into her folds and pressed her back so the tip of his cock surged into the small of her back, its base cradled against her delectably curved ass. 

 

It was pure heaven.  A warm shower in the middle of nowhere with this awkward, wonderful, one-of-a-kind woman was heaven. 

 

He became so distracted by the warm haven of her mouth that Oliver almost forgot he was on a mission.  But then Felicity groaned, pushing back against him, grinding into his cock, her belly rippling under his hand and Oliver was spurred on.  He needed more.  Now. 

 

Slowly, as not to spook her, Oliver dragged his fingers past the curls into her smooth, stick flesh, with its thick wetness, so different from the warm water cascading around their flesh.  His heart rate doubled and he kept the kiss deep, cradling Felicity’s head back against his bicep.

 

His fingers slid, testing the contours of Felicity’s nether lips, feeling the hard sphere of her clitoris under the smooth skin.  Dipping, finding her hot opening, Oliver’s finger swirled inside, staying shallow, just ghosting the surface, drawing it out.

 

Felicity’s breath skittered, panted a staccato.  She struggled to maintain the kiss, until she finally fell away with a gasp, becoming boneless in Oliver’s arms, her head lolling back onto his shoulder and her eyelids fluttering.

 

“ _Oliver_ …you…God.”

 

Dropping his mouth to her shoulder, Oliver took the opportunity to take in her flushed body, watch his hand as is ghosted over her, playing with the short curls and—

 

“ _Enough_ , Oliver,” Felicity demanded with a rough groan.  “Stop torturing me.  Do it already!”

 

A deep, rumbling laugh emerged from his chest.  “Patience,” Oliver admonished, teasing.  “What’s the rush?”  He slid two fingers through her folds and circled her entrance before sliding inside, giving her what Felicity wanted, but, clearly, slower than she sought.

 

"I _am_ patient," Felicity gasped, hips canting.  “Years and years of patience.”

 

Oliver pumped, once, twice… each time sliding a little deeper, each pass warmer and tighter, making him imagine what his cock would feel like inside her.  But this was about giving Felicity the best experience possible, not about chasing his own release.  He rubbed his lips and teeth against her shoulder and inhaled deeply through his nose to keep his own control from slipping.

 

“This is payback for the sponge bath thing, isn’t it?” Felicity moaned, her head rolling back and forth.

 

Oliver smothered a laugh.  “Shhh, baby.  Relax.”

 

“Relax my as—oh _God_.”

 

He sank his fingers to their hilt, his thumb falling into the notch above and immediately finding her clitoris, gently rolling it on the pad of his thumb.

 

Felicity screamed.  But, then she caught herself, biting her lip and letting out muffled squeals.

 

“Oh no, none of that,” Oliver admonished, pulling out his fingers to lightly pinch her clit and sending her hips bucking.

 

“ _What_?”  Felicity gasped, a frustrated bite to the word.

 

“No holding back.   I want to hear every word.”  Oliver plunged his two fingers back in quickly.  “Every _shout_.”

 

“Frack!”

 

“Good girl.”  Oliver rewarded her with more pressure on her clit.  “Scream for me, baby.”

 

“Mmm. _God_ ,” Felicity’s hands fell back to his thighs, her nails digging into the muscle.  Her eyes looking wild.  Gorgeous.

 

“Louder, Felicity.” Keeping his right hand pumping and swirling, Oliver again cursed the damn cast, but was able to capture a nipple between the thumb and forefinger of that hand and apply pressure.

 

“Ahhhhhh!”

 

“There you go.” Oliver nipped Felicity’s shoulder again.  God, he wanted to devour her.  “No one for miles and miles.  There’s no one to hear you but me.  We can be as loud as we want.”  Oliver set up a rhythm, plunge his fingers, circle his thumb, squeeze her nipple, repeat…building faster and faster.  “That’s it, baby, just for me.”

 

“Oliver.  _Oliver_.”  Felicity screamed and squealed, just as he asked of her.  “Please.  God, uhhh.”

 

So beautiful.  Felicity’s hips bucked on his fingers, but he followed her easily.  Oliver nudged her feet into a wider stance, pressing her back against his cock, his own hips starting to follow her graceless cadence. 

 

Pressing open mouthed kisses across her face, licking, savoring, Oliver rubbed his cheek against her wet hair and just watched as she became more frantic and wordless in her screams.  He held her, keeping up the rhythm, but curling his fingers, giving her that last bit of extra pressure.

 

Felicity went rigid, arching onto her toes, her head back, eyes tightly closed.  Oliver knew he was the only thing holding her up as her legs began to shake.  He buried his fingers deep and pressed the flat of his thumb down hard, trying to prolong her pleasure without over-stimulating.

 

Her mouth fell open, but this was a soundless scream, stretching out into a whimper as Felicity went boneless in Oliver’s arms until, finally, her hand closed over his wrist.

 

Oliver pulled out his fingers, leaving Felicity’s folds with an affectionate pat, smearing her juices over her belly.  They were quickly washed away by the, miraculously, still warm shower.  He pressed more kisses to her cheek, grinning like a fool.

 

“Dear God, Oliver,” Felicity gasped, visibly out of breath, making Oliver feel all of the smugness she had accused him of earlier.  “That was…that was…”

 

Oliver spun her so that they were belly to belly and Felicity was blinking up at him.  He couldn’t help but beam.  “You were pretty incredible yourself,” he told her before slanting his mouth over hers, showing her exactly how amazing he found that entire experience, how much he still wanted her. 

 

As desperate as Oliver was feeling, Felicity’s kiss was the opposite.  Deep.  Sensual.  Lazy and delicious.  When she pulled back for air long minutes later, her arm resting loosely around his waist and shoulders, she smiled indolently. 

 

“See,” Felicity pressed anther kiss to his lips, coming up on her toes.  “I told you.”  Another kiss. “Sex god.”

 

It made Oliver laugh so hard, it was hard to keep kissing her.  He endeavored though, pressing his poor neglected cock into Felicity’s soft belly and grabbing her leg, hitching her thigh around his hip. 

 

But Felicity was having none of that.  Turning her head to the side, she evaded him, laughing.  “Stop.”  She pushed Oliver harder, trying to get him to halt, but it was still playful and fun.  “What happened to waiting for the whole fucking against the wall thing?”

 

Oliver’s breath hissed, shocked and incredibly turned on by her use of the word ‘fuck.’  Felicity saw it and smirked up at him impishly, pushing him until the back of his thighs came in contact with the bench.

 

Felicity pressed another kiss to his lips, amending, “As much as we both want to.”

 

Oliver gave into the gentle pressure of her hands on his shoulders and sat down on the bench as she clearly wanted him to.  He grinned up at her.  He could work with this.  Yanking Felicity between his legs, he once again took her nipple into his mouth.  Much better angle.  Yes, he could _definitely_ work with this.  They didn’t call her a genius for nothing. 

   

Felicity melted into him for a moment, but only a moment.  Groaning, she pushed away, catching Oliver by surprise, her nipple slipping from his mouth.

 

“Stay,” Felicity admonished and Oliver blinked at her in confusion.  All his blood was rushing south and he was, apparently, having a hard time thinking.  “You’re pushing it, mister.  You need…you need to sit back and _stay_.”

 

Her words only made him throb.  It seemed bossy Felicity was going to be a _thing_ for him.  She licked her lips and Oliver’s eyes followed the motion.  Then she gracefully fell to her knees.

 

Oliver stopped breathing.

 

Felicity had a hand on his thighs, urging them to fall open.  Her other hand rested on Oliver’s abdomen just to the left of the incision and, God, so damn close to his cock, which her eyes were glued to, by the way.  She licked her lips again.

 

Jesus _Christ_.  Felicity wasn’t… this was _not_ a part of Oliver’s plan.  He would never expect—

 

“If you move or strain yourself, I’ll stop,” Felicity warned, but her eyes were on his cock, not his eyes, and the whole thing was turning surreal.  Oliver really hadn’t imagined this…well, of course, he’d _imagined_ this.  Many, _many_ times, he’d imagined this.  Just hadn’t thought it would happen, not so early in their sexual relationship, especially as shy as she had been acting.

 

“Felicity, you don’t need—ug-gah—”

 

She leaned forward and swallowed his entire length in one sure move, shocking the hell out of Oliver and making his eyes roll back into his head.  Like jumping into the deep end of the swimming pool, Felicity went from 0 to 60, without passing go…. dear God in heaven, how was she evening doing that?  He wasn’t small.  And that wasn’t arrogance.

 

“ _Christ_ ,” Oliver bit out, her lips and tongue chasing away all coherent thought.  It was just… God, she was unique, his Felicity, and she didn’t do anything halfway, did she?   If she was going to do something, she was going to do with everything she had.

 

One soft hand wrapped around the base of Oliver’s cock.  The other stayed flat on his abdomen, a clear warning that this was Felicity’s show.  She wasn’t allowing any interference.  Fuck, he could feel the back of her throat.  She wasn’t even gaging.  Did she say she didn’t have a lot of experience?  How the hell had she learned this?  Then she was slowly backing off, sucking all the while, dragging her lips over his length.

 

He was going to die.  And die happy.

 

Oliver stared down at Felicity with wide eyes and watched as she blinked and looked up, her eyes meeting his.  Wow, if that wasn’t the sexiest fucking thing he’d ever seen.  He was burning this moment into his brain to get him through every piece of crap life threw at him.

 

He tried to smile at her, be encouraging or… _something_ , but language seemed to be beyond him and all he could get his mouth to do was fall open in a gasp.  Oliver didn’t seem to be in control of any of his muscles.  With significant effort, he managed to bring up his good hand to push Felicity’s hair back, smooth the shower water from her face.  They were positioned almost entirely out of the spray now, but the space remained steamy and warm.

 

Felicity’s beautiful kiss-reddened lips paused at the head of his cock.  So gorgeous.  Her eyes held Oliver’s as her tongue flicked out and circled the head before sucking the tip like it was a lollypop.

 

“ _Fuck_ , Felicity.”  Oliver couldn’t hold her gaze, his eyes rolled back into his head and his head fell back, colliding with the tile with a clunk that he barely felt.

 

Thought was gone.  Oliver wanted so badly to watch this, and barely, just barely, he managed to slit his eyes open as he held on to the waves and waves of pleasure as Felicity set up a swift rhythm, up and down. 

 

“God, baby.”  He wasn’t going to last long.  “ _Fuck_.”  Three long weeks of foreplay.  Christ, three long _years_ of foreplay…

 

“Felicity...”  Oliver tried to warn her, somewhat desperately, while he could still form words. Gently, he tugged at Felicity’s hair as he felt his balls draw up and the tingling begin in the base of his spine.

 

But his girl, her response was to plunge her lips all the way down so Oliver’s cock hit the back of her throat again. 

 

“Gah!”

 

Oliver’s hips lifted and he tried to force them back down.  He didn’t want to choke her.  He thought he heard Felicity gag this time, but instead of pulling back she swallowed and it was all over.  His hand tightened in her hair and his eyes squeezed shut as he poured himself into her.

 

"Jesus.  Fuck, baby,” Oliver gasped when he could form words again.

 

Felicity pulled off of Oliver with one last gentle kiss to his softening cock and sat back on her haunches.  She bit her lip and pushed back her hair, actually looking shy.  Seriously?  How could she be shy after that performance?  She was so fucking adorable.

 

Oliver reached for her, answering the question on her face.  “Felicity, baby, if you were any better at that, I’d be dead.”

 

Smothering a giggle, Felicity came back into his arms, twining her arms around his neck and smiling bashfully.  “You don’t have to say that.  I know I’m adequate, but, I’m sure you’ve had—”

 

“ _Never_ ,” Oliver swore.  “No one’s better and I swear to God, if you tell me you don’t have experience…”

 

“I didn’t say I had _no_ experience,” Felicity reasoned, smiling brightly, looking more confident.  “I know enough to avoid the teeth.  I learned that the hard way and—”

 

“No.  No.  I don’t want to know about any specifics. I’m going to pretend you’re a goddamn savant, ok?”

 

Felicity threw back her head and laughed.  “Now, you’re just talking crazy.”

 

“Dead, Felicity.  _Dead_.” 

 

Oliver beamed up at her feeling more relaxed then he could ever remember feeling without the benefit of pharmaceuticals and pressed a kiss in the center of her chest.

 

“Oh no, not again,” Felicity laughed, pushing him back.

 

Oliver mock pouted and let his good hand wander down to cup Felicity’s ass again, giving it a playful squeeze, but it was just that, playing.  He wasn’t exactly expecting a sex marathon.  At least not until he was cleared by the doctor.  His was perfectly content now.  For a couple hours, anyway.

 

Felicity pulled his hand back up to her waist, admonishing, “You’re not fully healed.” 

 

He knew it was true and now that the endorphins were starting to fade his knee did ache, but instead of agreeing with her, he whined, “ _Felicity_.”  Oliver couldn’t see what agreeing with her would gain him in the long run.

 

She giggled and ran a hand through Oliver’s soaking wet hair.  “This is what’s going to happen,” Felicity announced, completely her bossy, self-confident self again.  “You’re going to wash my hair.  I’m going to wash your back.  Then I’m going to help you put that brace back on and you’re going to make me some of that delectable French Toast, while I brew the coffee.”

 

“Is that so?” Oliver challenged, pulling Felicity in tighter, knowing that his smile gave him away.

 

“Yup, then we’re going to spend the rest of the morning catching you up on _Dr. Who_ episodes.”

 

Oliver tried to frown at her, but ended up just smiling dopily. 

 

“Anything you want, Felicity.  Anything.”

 

He couldn’t help but wish it was a long, _long_ time before he was medically cleared to go home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so that happened. That’s all I have to say.


	11. Unrestricted

So, apparently there was a basement in this cabin.  Who knew?   Not them, that was for sure.

 

While Felicity took the revelation as something she would categorize as a fun fact, Oliver took it as more of a personal affront to his observational skills.  And this time, it wasn't the pleasant medics from last week that came to check on Oliver's progress.  This time, it was an orthopedic surgeon and the infamous, Ryan, the PT.  

 

Felicity had to wonder if this Ryan had a death wish, because seriously why deal with Oliver again if he could possibly help it.

 

Luckily for their “guests” things seemed to roll off of Oliver's back a whole lot easier these days.  In fact, Felicity, was incredibly grateful that they were both fully clothed when the two ARGUS agents arrived.  Well, Oliver was shirtless, but then again, when wasn't he?

 

An hour earlier and the good doctor and the recklessly brave physical therapist would have been treated to quite the show as they drove up to find them _in flagrante_ by the lake after their morning walk had turned frisky.  Apparently, Felicity’s new boyfriend found the sunrise rather inspiring as Oliver had decided he just _had_ to see her face in the new morning light as he made her scream.

 

As fantastic as it was, and it _was_ fantastic, Felicity was glad that she could greet the ARGUS agents with omelets and not mutual masturbation.  Though little did they know that that was exactly what they could thank for Oliver's cooperative attitude.

 

Still, Ryan's face had been rather hysterical when Oliver had smiled at him and offered him one of his spectacular Spanish Omelets.   Felicity had hidden her grin and brewed another pot of coffee (her one culinary achievement), watching with no small amount of pride as Oliver impressed the Agents with his breakfast and his hospitality.

 

Things had the potential to go south fast, though, when they had been shown the secret basement entrance.  Oliver's eyes narrowed dangerously when the couch shifted and the floor opened to reveal the hidden staircase.  It isn't hard for Felicity to see what he was thinking, what with that tic in his jaw and the way he rubbed his fingers together.

 

Once downstairs, it was clear that the reason the basement was hidden was that was where ARGUS stashed all its tech.  Not that there was a _ton_ of tech, but there was a work station with a state of the art computer that she could easily use to connect them with Starling…. which reminded Felicity, guiltily, of how little thought and effort she’d put into communicating with home.  She was enjoying being _disconnected_ far too much.

 

Most of the space, however, was set up with medical equipment, physical therapy equipment, and a decent-sized gym.   Actually, thinking about it, the space had a lot in common with the Arrow Cave.   Right down to the underground thing…huh.  It wasn’t as cool, of course.   Less archery stuff.  No salmon ladder.  So really as a super hero cave it just sucked, but hey, they tried, right?

 

They did have an x-ray machine; which Felicity was jealous of.  She knew Team Arrow should have bought one of those back when QC was still secretly funding them.  

 

When the super-cool and very necessary machine showed that Oliver’s arm was healed, he got over his grumps and actually smiled.  By the time Mac, the orthopedic doctor who refused to let them call him anything else, started cutting off his cast, Oliver was downright chipper.  

 

In fact, Oliver and Mac were getting along disgustingly well.  It turns out Orthopods were the least nerdy doctors out there. In fact, Felicity learned, they were just enormous jocks.  She had no idea that Oliver knew so much about sports and Felicity wasn't sure she wanted to know, cause… _boring_.  

 

And, wow, could he hold his own when discussing strength building and endurance and isolating muscles groups blah blah blah.   In fact, he was so pleasant to Ryan, Felicity wondered if he'd forgotten that he'd met him before.   Oliver _had_ been on a lot of pain meds during their first adversarial relationship.

 

“I imagine you want to keep this?” The Doc asked (because in Felicity’s head this man was a ‘Doc’ while Dr. Singh had been a ‘Doctor.’). The rough and fit looking man smirked at Oliver as he deftly cut off Oliver's colorful cast.  Felicity hadn't left a lot of white on the thing.  Sharpies were fun.

 

"Yup."  Oliver sent Felicity a private smile that it made her unreasonably happy.  

 

When his arm was freed, Mac set the cast aside and Felicity watched as Oliver rubbed and stretched his newly unencumbered arm, spreading his fingers and flexing his muscles.

 

He was all better now.  Completely healed.

 

That was when Felicity forced herself to acknowledge the strange little ball of anxiety that had been steadily building in the base of her stomach since Ryan and Mac arrived.   She knew Oliver's health was great and fully expected him to get a clean bill of health.  Which was what she wanted, of course, except…

 

Oh God, Felicity wasn't ready to go home yet.  She just…just wanted a little more time.  Just the two of them.  It was selfish, but she couldn’t help it.

 

There was a slight burn in Felicity’s eyes and at the base of her throat as she watched Mac move onto Oliver's knee, removing the brace and running Oliver through a series of motions and exercises, watching with crossed arms and intelligent eyes.   To her untrained ones, Felicity thought Oliver looked perfect and, irrationally, it made her want to cry.

 

Then Ryan took his turn, guiding Oliver through a series of more advanced drills before looking to Mac.

 

The Doc clapped his large hands together with a wide grin.  “Looks good.”

 

Felicity’s stomach sank.

 

But Oliver smiled, asking, “So…I'm off all restrictions, then?”

 

“I would say so,” Mac answered as he packed up equipment.

 

The look Oliver sent her was so hot, her clothes could have set fire, but still, Felicity wanted to cry.  She looked Oliver in the eye and saw his face melt into a frown as he took in her expression.

 

Swallowing and holding Oliver's gaze, Felicity forced herself to ask, “Are we going home today?”  She was proud that her voice only cracked the slightest bit at the end.

 

Immediately, Oliver’s eyes shuttered and his face became a mask.  He turned keen eyes on the doctor, as well.   Felicity could see his hands clench as he sat on the examination table. Maybe Oliver wasn't ready to leave yet either.  That thought, perversely, made Felicity feel marginally better.

 

Mac threw this one to Ryan, giving the PT a look that made the younger man straighten and cross his arms across his own, not unsubstantially muscled, chest.  He gave Oliver a hard look, clearly bracing himself as he cleared his throat.

 

“Actually, Oliver, we’d like you to remain here for another week.  To regain your strength before you throw yourself into the field again and reinjure yourself.”  Ryan's tone was defensive and, as strong as his posture was, Felicity could tell he was a little bit terrified of a full on attack from the Arrow.

 

But Oliver just looked at Ryan placidly.  Felicity could see the tension bleed out of her boyfriend and she smothered a giddy smile behind her hand.  The medical staff, on the other hand, just looked confused when Oliver's only response was a pleasant smile and a nod.

 

The silence stretched on as Ryan and Mac exchanged puzzled looks, until, finally, sensing no one was going move forward until he said something, Oliver said simply, “Ok.”

 

Felicity almost burst out laughing at the look on Ryan's face.  

 

"Ummmm.  Alright, then.”  Ryan turned to his equipment, clearly flustered, but trying to appear confident.  “So…eh…I'm going to give you a workout regimen, run you through a few things before we leave.  As long as you follow it, you should be able to go home when we return next week.”

 

Ryan shot Oliver a challenging look and Oliver smiled back serenely, saying, “Sounds good.” 

 

It was almost as if the two were having completely different conversations.  Then Oliver turning the intensity of his gaze back over to Felicity and she knew _exactly_ the conversation he was having and it wasn't with Ryan. 

 

Felicity bit her lip to hide a dopy grin, feeling herself flush.  All of a sudden, it was a tad too warm down there.   Oliver smirked at her, a one-sided grin that had her squirming in her seat.  It only got worse as she watched Ryan take Oliver through some “stamina building” exercises.

 

That was it.  She was outta there. 

 

“I'll, umm…get some stuff done upstairs.  I mean, clearly, I'm not needed here and I could use some time to…”  To what, Smoak?  This was pathetic.  Felicity had to get out of there before she started babbling something _really_ humiliating.  “I'll be upstairs,” she blurted out, all but running up the stairs, not daring to look back.

 

She could feel Oliver’s smug eyes burning a hole in her backside.  Yes, backside.  Not back.   Felicity knew _exactly_ what that damn man was staring at. 

 

And, frack, if it didn't make her about as aroused as she could ever remember being.  More turned on then she'd ever been in the company of….eh hem…anyone not directly involved in the arousing activities.  And it was _damned_ embarrassing.  Felicity was convinced that stupid Ryan and Mr. I'm-So-Cool-Doctor-Dude could see right through her.  Damn Oliver, couldn’t he at least _try_ to be more subtle?

 

Back upstairs and breathing obnoxiously fast, Felicity banged around the kitchen, unpacking the supplies the two Agents brought, trying to find something to do with her shaking hands.  She was borderline humiliated and irrationally irritated at Oliver for putting her in the position of putting away spaghetti and trying not to rub her thighs together as her panties became uncomfortably wet.

 

How long was it going to take them to teach Oliver how the exercise, anyway?  He _knew_ how to exercise.  Obviously.  Like… _look_ at him.  He was a fricken expert!   Oh God, what if Ryan and Mac wanted to stay for lunch?  Felicity might spontaneously combust!

 

This was ridiculous.  The men had traveled halfway across the world and Felicity wanted to kick them out the door just so she could get _some_.  It was pathetic!  She'd had a particularly spectacular orgasm less than two hours before.  One would think that she could hold out a little longer.

 

But Felicity had never had him inside her.

 

And _Oliver_.

 

God, she wanted him inside her.  _Now_.

 

And, wow, this was totally not helping!  What was taking them so long!?

 

Felicity had cleaned up after breakfast and unpacked all the groceries by the time she heard the men climbing the stairs.  One would have thought she'd have calmed down by then.  One would have been wrong.

 

Oliver was laughing and joking with Ryan and Mac as they emerged upstairs, like they were old friends.  _Men_.  Seriously.   If Oliver invited them to stay and watch some sporting thingy, Felicity was going to….do something really, really mean to them all.

 

But thankfully, Oliver walked them directly to the door and Felicity breathed a sigh of relief as she rearranged cans.  Again.  Damn.  This was so stupid.  What was _wrong_ with her?

 

“Bye, Felicity.  It was nice to meet you,” Mac called from the doorway with a friendly wave, making Felicity jump and slam the cabinet door.

 

Ryan smiled too.  He wasn't even looking at her like a crazy, sex starved lunatic.  Was he blind?  Wasn't it obvious?

 

“Thank you, again, Felicity,” the PT called.

 

“Bye,” was all Felicity could manage in a high, squeaky voice, smiling what she was sure was a sickening sunny, and quite obviously fake, smile, as she waved way too enthusiastically. 

 

Again, what was _wrong_ with her?   Felicity turned away before she could make a bigger fool of herself.  What to do?  What to do?  She needed something to _do_.  

 

Felicity’s eyes found the last remaining supplies, some soap and shampoo.  She scooped them up and headed for the bedroom as Oliver got last minute instructions from the medical staff.

 

At least that's what Felicity thought they were saying.  It was hard to say for sure, what with the roaring in her ears.

 

Yet when the door shut, it sounded so loud that Felicity jumped.

 

“Felicity.”

 

She could feel the heat in his tone as Oliver called her name.  Felicity swallowed, slowly turning to face him, gulping at the look in his eyes.  She had never had such intensity focused on her before. 

 

The shampoo fell from her limp fingers.

 

Oliver pounced.

 

There was no other way to say it.   One second, Oliver was across the room, the next he had her up against the wall, her legs around his waist and was kissing the living daylights out of her.  Felicity, honestly, could not remember how it even happened.  But it was _amazing_. 

 

And Oliver was doing that thing with his tongue, and it was unfair because he was so talented, and Felicity could hardly _think_.  She was still dizzy from that little trip across the room.  How was she supposed keep up?

 

But, somehow, she was.  Felicity’s brain had shut down, but her hands were yanking on the short strands of Oliver's hair and her mouth was sucking his tongue and her thighs were pulling him in where she needed him the most.   God.  _Finally_!   It felt like she had needed him there for _hours_.  Days.  Years.

 

When Oliver broke the kiss to let Felicity breathe, he grinned wolfish lay at her.  “I'm off restrictions.”

 

Felicity couldn't help her breathless laugh.  Dear God. It was too much.  “So I heard.”

 

Oliver's response was an even wider grin as he moved his previously bad hand under her ass, showing just how nice it was that he was finally free of that cast.  Lifting her higher, he used his right hand to cradle her jaw and run his lips over Felicity’s neck and ear.

 

“And already showing off,” Felicity managed with a groan.  Not that she minded.  Not at _all_.

 

His laugh reverberated against her jaw. “I haven't even gotten started.”  Oliver’s stubble rubbed over her neck as he took the strap of her tank top between his teeth and edged it off her shoulder.

 

Felicity’s head fell back with a soft thunk and her eyes rolled back into her head.  Her hips had started a rhythm of their own, but the large hand cradling her behind wasn't letting her go too crazy yet. 

 

“I'm surprised you didn't want to go home,” Felicity murmured.

 

Then her eyes popped open.   Where had that come from?   Way to ruin the moment, Felicity.  

 

“Mmmm,” was Oliver's very helpful reply.  It seemed he was too busy working her shirt under her breasts without releasing her arms to reply properly.  He ran his tongue under the edge of her bra and Felicity was just starting to think maybe that was answer enough, when he said against her skin, making her shiver, “I need to work on my _stamina_ first.”

 

Oliver punctuated his words with a long, slow grind of his hips and Felicity swore she almost came right there.

 

“Frack.  That feels good.”

 

Laughter followed and Felicity cursed her lack of filter, because she really hadn't meant that to slip out.  But also, wow, this was really happening.  There was absolutely nothing to stop them. 

 

Shoot.  Was that the que for the League of Assassins to burst through the window? 

 

Nope, not thinking that way.  Focus, Felicity.  

 

“I think your stamina is just fine,” Felicity panted.  That was good.  Coherent.  On topic.  Excellent.  Wow, Oliver’s stubble was just the _most_ erotic thing.

 

“Oh baby, you know ‘fine’ is just not good enough for us,” Oliver argued, his voice deep and husky.  Felicity used to liken it to the Arrow voice, but it was different.  Warmer.  Richer. More—

 

All thoughts were chased away again as Oliver swooped back in for another blistering kiss, stealing her breath and…well, everything, in the teeth clanking, soul drugging, wonderfulness that was dueling with his clever, wicked tongue.

 

“Hmm,” Felicity moaned in to the kiss.  She couldn't do more as her tongue was in someone else's mouth.  But they were moving, her back no longer against the wall, and… “Ooof,” she uttered inelegantly as her behind was plopped on the kitchen counter.  Gently, sure, but she wasn't expecting it.

 

And then Oliver had the nerve to deprive her of his beautiful mouth as he pulled back

and yanked off her shirt before Felicity could even take a breath.  Her glasses were hanging half-off, but she didn't have the presence of mind to fix them, or remove them, as she took in his predatory expression.  Then he had her bra snapped off and across the room, leaving Felicity to again wonder at the speed this man could move at.

 

But, then, miraculously, Oliver slowed down. 

 

_Way down._  

 

Oliver closed his hands over her waist, watching himself move as if in a trance as his fingers slid over the dip of her waist and up the sides of her breasts.  Slowly, so _so_ slowly his palms traveled over her shoulders and down her bare arms until their palms met and fingers laced.

 

Felicity stared at their entwined hands, caught up in the same strange, transcendental mood as Oliver, it would seem. 

 

His left hand was paler, smoother than the right, but still so strong.  Glancing up, Felicity caught Oliver looking at her with the same intense awe that she herself felt and it made her breath catch.  She looked up from his perfect scared chest (because at no time when they had guests had it occurred to him to put on a shirt) and met his eyes.

 

“Oliver—”

 

He caught her lips, again, in a different kind of kiss.  A more tender, nipping sort of kiss.  His tongue came into play slowly, sensually.

 

Oliver ran his hands back down her arms and shoulders to cup her breasts, all the while drugging her with the leisurely kiss.  Gently, he squeezed and kneaded Felicity’s regrettably small breasts, making them feel positively bountiful in his hands given the reverence with which he treated them.  He avoided her nipples.  Teasing.  Teasing…  The _bastard_.

 

It took Felicity a moment to realize her hands were free and she had trouble deciding where on Oliver’s delectable body to touch first.  Finally, she settled on wrapping her arms around him, grabbing his hips and ass, trying to pull him closer.  She wanted to get back the delicious friction that had her so close when they had been up against the wall only moments ago. 

 

But Oliver kept her firmly seated back on the countertop, away from him, making Felicity growl in frustration as she tried to move against the unyielding, if beautiful, muscles that held her hips away from his.

 

Instead of giving an inch, Oliver bit Felicity’s bottom lip gently and gave a soft suck before pulling back with a grin.

 

“Oliver, you ass,” Felicity grumbled, but she knew it held no bite, knew she was undoubtedly staring at him with a lovesick expression on her face, all doe-eyed and soft.

 

His broad grin confirmed it.  Instead of responding, Oliver swooped down and captured a nipple in his mouth.  Felicity gasped.  Oh God.  Her hands moved to the crown of his head and his shoulder as he hunched down, working his magic.  Her eyes wanted to close but he was just so…so…

 

“Oh God, you're beautiful.   _Oliver_.   The muscles and the golden skin and the scars and the ink…it's a work of art.  You are a work of _art_.   Not the calm, perfect symmetric Greek stuff.  The new interesting stuff.  The meaningful kind.  The kind that belongs at the Guggenheim or the National Gallery.  But…too beautiful even for show.  Those muscles are used to save people.   How is this my life?  How are you mine?”

 

Oliver suddenly stopped, slowly straightening and looking at her with shock and awe.  He took her palms again, relacing their fingers, and chocking out, “ _Yours_ , Felicity.   That's all I want.  That's all I need from life.”

 

Felicity melted at the beautiful words, leaning in for another kiss when she realized…

 

"Oh God, did I say that _all_ out loud?”

 

His response was an almost laugh, but his face was too full of emotion to quite manage it.  Oliver lifted her hands and pressed them to his lips.  “Felicity, baby, I…when we’re alone, when it's just us, I don't want you to ever have to...”

 

Oliver took a deep breath and wrapped a hand around the side of her head, bringing their foreheads together.  “I want to hear every beautiful, brilliant, _crazy_ thing that crosses that amazing mind of yours.  _Everything_.  Never feel like you need to filter with me.”

 

Felicity laughed through her sniffles, knowing there were tears cascading down her cheeks.   She pulled Oliver in and hugged him tightly with both her arms and legs, trying to get as close as humanly possible.

 

“Oh, Oliver,” Felicity whimpered in his ear.  “You don't know what you’re asking.  I'll never shut up.”

 

Oliver's answering laugh was a bit watery as well.  “Good!  I love it.   I love…”  He pulled back to cup her cheek and meet her eyes.  “Felicity, I love how honest you are and how…you just hold _nothing_ back.  From the first time I saw you, you held nothing back.  With everyone else, it was secrets and lies, while every quirky, fascinating thought you had, just flows from your mouth like sunshine.”

 

Felicity really laughed now, even though the tears kept coming and she wouldn't let go of Oliver long enough to wipe them away.  “That's maybe the cheesiest thing you’ve ever said.”

 

Oliver barked out a delighted laugh, then leaned forward to kiss her tears away, because, apparently, he wasn't done doing cheesy, wonderful things.

 

“And the most beautiful,” Felicity finished.  “Oliver Queen, you are a god _damn_ poet.”

 

Leaning back and straightening her glasses, Oliver smiled.  “Only for you, baby.  Only for you.” He pressed another kiss to her lips, his fingers stroking her cheeks and going to her ears, rubbing them in the most perfect way.

 

“I love your hands.  How do you do such incredible things with such big hands?” Felicity blushed after she said it, even though Oliver had just asked her not to filter.  

 

Thankfully, Oliver seemed more than pleased with her words.  “I love you.”

 

It filled her with joy and confidence and…  “Well, _that_ goes without saying.”

 

He grinned in agreement.  Kissing her mouth, her nose, Oliver ran a finger over Felicity’s glasses and pulled back.  “Do you want to leave them on or take them off,” he asked softly, running his fingers over the handles where they curved behind her ears.

 

The question made Felicity pause, taken aback.  “No one has ever asked me that before.”

 

Oliver tilted his head in question, giving her a moment to gather her thoughts.

 

It was true.  No one had even mentioned her glasses.  They just removed them.  Then Felicity remembered that Oliver had asked her not to filter.  And since he had asked so nicely…  “I mean anyone I've ever been with just seemed to want them off…I'm sorry, you don't like it when I talk about exes.  I—”

 

“No, Felicity,” Oliver stopped her, shaking his head.  “Forget that.   Don't let my stupid jealousy stop you from telling me things.  You can tell me _anything_.”

 

Again, Felicity was taken aback and stared at him with her mouth open, struggling to find what to say next.  Which was really ironic given Oliver that had just given her free range to say, well, anything. 

 

“Really.”  Oliver seemed to feel he needed to reassure.  “I'll get over it.  It's stupid.   I want to know everything about you.  I don't want you to leave things out because you had boyfriend at the time.”

 

Felicity’s eyes widened.  She wasn't sure what threw her more, that he was giving her free range to talk about other men just when they were about to have sex for the first time or that he wanted to know _everything_ about her.  It was kind of a scary thought.

 

"I thought you wanted to pretend I was a virgin?” Scary thoughts often, kinda, led to jokes.

 

Oliver rolled his eyes.  “I was kidding.  I'm not _that_ much of a cave man.”  He tapped her glasses again and pulled Felicity’s hips a little closer.  “So the glasses…”

 

“Yes, umm…” Right, time for more confessions.   “Other guys just seemed to want them out of the way.  They're not exactly sexy.”

 

The look Oliver gave her was incredulous.  “First of all, Felicity, your glasses are _so_ fucking sexy.” He pulled her in for another long, nipping kiss, proving how not in the way the glasses were.  “Are _you_ more comfortable with them off.  Can you see?”

 

Finally, an easy question.  “A little.  Close up.”  Felicity wrinkled her nose.  “ _Really_ close up.”

 

Her confession earned her a kiss.  She wasn’t sure why.  But she’d take it.  This one lasted a little longer, got a little deeper.  It didn't take long for Felicity to remember exactly how desperate she'd been only minutes ago.

 

When Oliver pulled back this time, he was short of breath.  “Leave them,” he insisted, huskily.

 

Felicity nodded jerkily.  “Yeah… Yeah… It'd be nice to see, you know, for the first time.”

 

“Yeah.  God, yeah.”  Oliver dived in for another one of his soul-sucking kisses, deep and insanely hot. 

 

It was so easy to get lost again.  Felicity was instantly back to the place she’d been at when she was to pinned to the wall.  _So_ ready to have him inside her.   Oliver's hand fell to her breast and this time he didn't avoid her nipple and, frack, it was too much and, really, not enough.

 

Felicity’s hands flew over his shoulders and arms, kneading, pulling.  She slid her palms down his warm back and under the waist of his sweats.  Feeling bold, she grasped his naked ass and squeezed.

 

Oliver must have taken it as encouragement or…something, because he pulled away from Felicity’s lips and immediately captured her nipple, sucking, sending a direct line of sensation between her legs.

 

“ _Frack_ , Oliver I…”

 

“Talk to me, baby.  Don't hold anything back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know, worst cliff-hanger ever. It’s a side effect of these chapters getting too long and too detailed. It’s hard for me to manage the editing process (mine is exhaustive) with anything over, say 6,000 words.
> 
> God news is that the climax in the next chapter will be uninterrupted (pun most definitely intended).
> 
> Thank you for reading!! Please comment and kudo if you liked it. (I’ll be out of town next week, maybe with the right encouragement I’ll try to figure out how to post from the friggen iPad if I can the dam thing edited. ;) )
> 
> Emmy


	12. Unbound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I was feeling mean leaving the story at that cliff hanger, I’m posting this at 4am before getting on a plane. I really hope everyone enjoys it. Happy (Early) Holiday!

Oliver dived in for another one of his soul-sucking kisses, deep and insanely hot. 

 

It was so easy to get lost again.  Felicity was instantly back to the place she’d been at when she was to pinned to the wall.  _So_ ready to have him inside her.   Oliver's hand fell to her breast and this time he didn't avoid her nipple and, frack, it was too much and, really, not enough.

 

Felicity’s hands flew over his shoulders and arms, kneading, pulling.  She slid her palms down Oliver’s warm back and under the waistband of his sweats.  Feeling bold, she grasped his naked ass and squeezed.

 

Oliver must have taken this as encouragement or… _something_ , because he pulled away from Felicity’s lips and immediately captured her nipple, sucking, sending a direct line of sensation between her legs.

 

“ _Frack_ , Oliver I…”

 

“Talk to me, baby.  Don't hold anything back.”

 

His tongue was flicking her nipple, making it hard to think, never mind talk.  “God, I…” Felicity tried.  “I'm not exactly coherent at the moment, Oliver.”

 

His laugh was joyous.  “That's ok, too.  No cohesion necessary.”  Oliver's mouth settled over Felicity’s other nipple, sucking roughly.

 

“Oh. Oh. _Ohhhhh_ …”

 

Oliver's hand cupped her bottom, lifting her and pulling her to him, leaving Felicity to scramble for balance, to grab his arms and shoulders as he lifted her, his mouth never leaving his task, his tongue continuing to drive her mad.

 

Felicity’s didn't realize she was naked until Oliver pulled her against him and her wet core came in contact with his hard abdomen. 

 

“Dear God,” Felicity gasped, “how did you even _do_ that?”

 

Oliver's head fell back as he laughed.  “God, I love you.”  He lifted her again, this time pulling her flush against him and off the counter, one hand under her ass and the other around her shoulders as he brought his lips back to hers. 

 

“What…where…?” Felicity panted against his lips.  She was disoriented, dizzy.  And ready.  _So_ ready.  She could feel Oliver's cock against her slick folds.  When had he lost his pants?  “What are you doing?  I'm ready…I want…”

 

Why did she sound drunk?

 

“Our first time,” Oliver sucked on her bottom lip as he spun them, “is going to be in a bed.”  He ran his tongue along her chin while he started walking, making Felicity tighten her arms and legs around him reflexively.  “ _Our_ bed.”

 

“That's really not…necessary,” Felicity panted, her head falling to the side.  God, the friction.  Oliver was so close.  Another inch and he’d be inside.  She just wanted…

 

“I just want you in—”

 

Felicity was interrupted by Oliver's tongue in her mouth.  As responses go, it really wasn't bad.  It was certainly distracting, what with how talented said tongue was.  So, when he tried to withdraw it, Felicity fought him, sucking on it and following his mouth with hers.

 

Oliver gave in for a moment, kissing her for a long moment before panting, “God, me too, baby.   Trust me, we’re christening every surface of this cabin over the next week.”

 

His cock against her was a goddamn tease.  Felicity groaned, “God, yes.  When are you going to be inside me…?  Frack, see what happens when you turn off the filter.” 

 

“I love it.”  Laughing huskily, Oliver tossed her onto the bed.

 

“Wow, the bed was closer than I thought.”

 

Oliver climbed onto the bed after her.  For some reason, Felicity inched back as he crawled toward her.  She certainly didn’t want to escape him, but she moved instinctively.  Maybe it was that he resembled a jungle cat, ready to devour her.   Grabbing her foot, he placed a biting kiss on the arch, then one the inside of her knee, making her meew.

 

“I want you on the porch,” Oliver told her.  “By the lake.  In the basement.   I want you _everywhere_ …”

 

Oliver was over her now and Felicity couldn't stand it anymore. She grabbed his ass and spread her legs.  “I just want you _now_.”

 

“Yes.” 

 

And with that, Oliver slid inside her.

 

Felicity's breath caught.  She wanted to watch.  She wanted…but she couldn't keep her eyes open and her head arched back.

 

“Ahhh…. _Oliver_ …”

 

It was a slow spiritual slide, the feeling of fullness, and then, God, he bottomed out, and it was…it was _perfect_.   Felicity’s eyes fluttered open and found Oliver’s crystal blue gaze so intense, so incredibly close.  Thank God for the birth control shot and the freedom it allowed them.

 

“Wow, I…wow.”

 

Oliver's face broke into open a wide open smile. “Yeah,” he breathed, “me too.”

 

She couldn’t help but smile back as she reached up and cupped Oliver's cheek, urging him to bring his lips back to hers.  This was a gentle, savoring kiss.  Felicity wanted to treasure this. This first complete connection.  He sucked on her bottom lip as she attached to his top and just felt him, over her, around her, _inside_ her.

 

“I can't believe this is really happening,” Felicity whispered against his lips.

 

“Felicity…”  Oliver's voice cracked and his eyes swam.  Dear God, he looked like he was going to cry.

 

"I love you," she blurted, before _she_ started to weep.  And because Felicity wanted to say it first this time.  For Oliver.  Because he deserved that.

 

He gave a watery chuckle.  "Me too.  God.  Me too, baby,” he whimpered. 

 

Oliver came down on his elbows, pressing their chests together as he pressed a gentle, reverent kiss to Felicity’s lips and moved a hand under her ass, pulling her up and pressing them as close as they could possibly be.  So when he started to move, dear God… he'd managed this angle where her clit rubbed perfectly against his pelvic bone with every tiny move of his hips…it was…it was so…. oh… dear… God…

 

Almost immediately the pleasure started to build and it was… God…Felicity didn't think…this wasn't…

 

Felicity wasn't a woman who easily orgasmed from penetration alone.  From what she understood, that wasn't unusual, so she'd never given it much thought, but this…dear God, was _this_ penetration alone?  She didn't even know what the _hell_ this was. 

 

The thing Oliver was doing with his hips, the circular _grinding_ thing, with him oh-so-deep inside her…whatever it was, it was _fabulous_.  Felicity wanted to do this forever and ever and never stop.  She was already building and building and she couldn't imagine this was going to last long, but she wanted it to last an eternity.

 

“Felicity.  Baby?”

 

With significant effort, Felicity forced her eyes open.  Oh yeah, she'd kept her glasses on so she could see what was going on.  But she hadn't thought…she hadn't _known_ it would feel like _this_.  She met Oliver's blown and hooded eyes, ran her palms over his deliciously sweaty back, resting the heal of her foot in the dip above his ass and glorying in the slow sinuous movements that were, frankly, rocking her world.

 

“Talk to me, baby.”

 

Talk?  How was she supposed to talk with his hips and the circles and the...? How was he getting deeper?  She didn’t know there _was_ a deeper.  “I…can't…how do you expect me to form words, when you…?” Felicity dug her nails into his back and arched hers as a particularly intense wave hit her.  “Oliver…. _soooo_ good.”

 

Oliver's answering smile was smug.

 

“You're a …pompous ass,” Felicity groaned, pulling his head down and biting Oliver's lip.  In retaliation, he changed his rhythm, thrust a little harder. “And, gah, a fucking sex god.”

 

“That's my girl.” Oliver squeezed her ass, urging Felicity’s hips into the rhythm he had perfected.

 

Felicity felt a crest in the pleasure and she screamed, light exploding behind her eyelids, but…but, Oliver didn't stop and neither did the pleasure.  The wave crested, but there was another just behind it…

 

“Oh…oh…what…?   _Ah_ …”

 

And it just kept going like that.  Wave.  Crest.  Wave.  Crest.  Every time Felicity thought it was the final one and started to relax, it would start again.  She felt delirious.   Not at all in control of her own body.  All she could do was hold on and moan like an animal.

 

Felicity couldn't form words no matter what Oliver wanted.  And, damn, that man deserved to get _anything_ he wanted.  But all she could do is roll her head and moan incoherently.  

 

“God. Ol…ol….ol…iv...errr…”

 

“ _Christ_ , Felicity.”

 

That signaled the moment Oliver started to lose control.  The rhythm changed, his hips stuttering.  There were more thrusts and fewer circles.  Felicity dug her fingers into his muscular ass, encouraging him, trying to meet his thrusts, in her uncoordinated, delirious way.

 

“Oliver!”

 

He let go.  The thrusts became hard and fast and it was all Felicity could do to hold on and enjoy the ride.  Felicity’s back bowed, her muscles went rigid and, somehow, the pleasure built to an even higher level. 

 

" _Fuck_...Felicity…” Oliver growled, going stiff above her, filling her with a rush of warmth. 

It was… _amazing_.  Felicity had gone into this with ridiculously high expectations.  And it had exceeded every one.  Every _single_ one.

 

Oliver collapsed on top of her, but just for a moment, not allowing himself to truly catch his breath before flipping them, depriving her of his weight.  And while it was sweet that he didn’t want to crush her, Felicity was a little disappointed, because his weight was rather delectable.  But he managed to stay inside her, still half-hard, so she couldn’t complain.  Not really.

 

Felicity felt like she was floating and yet…  She should be sated.  She had just had what was clearly the _best_ sex of her young life.  She should be so sensitive that she couldn’t stand to be touched.  She should be drained.  She should…

 

But, God, somehow, Felicity felt like she hadn’t fully come down from the orgasm.  And it was definitely one of the most intense organisms she had ever experienced, but her sex was still throbbing, her body still humming.  She still wanted _more_.

 

“Felicity?”  It was half-question, half-statement of indescribable awe.

 

Pushing herself up, Felicity gazed down at Oliver’s beautiful face.  Her glasses, though certainly askew, were miraculously still on her face and she could see every sweaty, delicious inch of him.  Oliver was smiling a lazy, sated grin as he reached up and straightened her glasses before pushing back her sweaty hair.

 

Felicity arched into his touch, rubbing her face against his hand.  She was still in a sex haze.  Still so aroused she couldn't think straight.  

 

Oliver seemed to sense something from her expression and he tilted his head, looking at her like she was a mystery to be solved.  Felicity just bit her lip and—

 

He leaned up and captured her mouth again, kissing Felicity breathless, not that she had actually regained her breath in the first place.  But she sensed Oliver’s surprise when she returned his lazy, sensual kiss with some, well, force.

 

Experimentally, Felicity rotated her hips the way they seemed to be begging her to and experienced another burst of pleasure that made her break the kiss with a cry.

 

“Felicity, baby, talk to me?” Oliver insisted again, his tone curious and dripping with sex appeal.

 

The delirium was returning.   Quickly.  Too quickly.  “Oliver?   What are you doing to me?” Felicity whimpered.  She was moving nonstop now.  With those fantastic circles he had taught her, sex god that he was, and she felt Oliver harden inside her and it was perfect.  So perfect.  “It won't stop.  Why won't it stop?”

 

Oliver's hands rested lightly on her hips, following and encouraging her movements, his hips following hers.  He bit his lip and Felicity wanted to devour him.  “What won't stop?” he panted.  “Not sure you're making sense, baby.”

 

“This goddamn orgasm,” Felicity growled, her hands now balancing on his chest for leverage.  “It won't fricken end.”

 

And, of _course_ , Oliver laughed.

 

“That's right, be smug.  _God_ …” Another intense wave hit her and Felicity leaned into it.  “You know what?  You deserve to be smug.   It's amazing.  Fantastic.  It's…God, is this that mythical multiple orgasm thing?”

 

Oliver laughed again.  Breathless and joyous and worshipful.  “Baby, _you're_ amazing.  But, yeah.  I mean, I think so.  I _hope_ so.”  His fingers dug into Felicity’s ass, kneading, sending an extra level of sensation through her.

 

“Hmmm,” Felicity agreed, her pleasure-drugged mind incapable of much more.  There was a dip in a wave and she used it as an opportunity to sit up and drag her heated, and blessedly clear, vision, over his sweaty body.  _She_ did that.   She caused that gorgeous sheen.  Not pull-ups or sparing or fancy weights.  _Her_. 

 

She ran her open hands over the ridges in his abdomen, across his hard pecs and peaked nipples, making Oliver hum.  Felicity traced his scars, but when she came to the new one she froze.

 

“Felicity…?”

 

There was concern in Oliver's voice.  Because they were so connected right now.  So connected that Felicity couldn't imagine a time when they were separated.  Suddenly, she felt incredibly vulnerable.   She traced the line of the fresh scar as tears pricked her eyes and she whimpered, “Don't leave me.”

 

"Never," Oliver vowed, with an intensity that didn't leave any room for doubt. 

 

Felicity knew it was a promise he may not be able to keep.  One that was not fully in his control, but she appreciated it just the same.  She lunged over and attacked his mouth, her tongue immediately plunging inside and finding his.

 

Oliver's hips bucked, hitting a…oh a _wonderful_ spot inside her, hard and deep, making it impossible to maintain the kiss.

 

“Oooo.  God,” Felicity moaned, pushing back up.  “I'm really not worried about your…oh yes…there…your stamina.”

 

“Mmmm.”  Oliver followed her, chasing her lips as she tried to sit up, kissing and nipping at what he could reach, until he was leaning back on his elbows.

 

The chase was rather fun and Felicity sat up completely, grinding her hips with what she knew to be a wicked grin.

 

She was doing something right if she judged by the way Oliver's eyes followed her like a caress.  He bit that lower lip again and Felicity imagined he knew exactly what he was doing.  He was clearly an expert at this game.

 

Oliver's smile was a thing of beauty, sexy, sensual as he praised, “I gotta say, I'm pretty impressed by your stamina as well.”

 

"I, honestly, don't know what this is, but it's fantas—ahhh—”

 

Oliver lurched up, capturing a nipple in his mouth, pulling at it with his lips, sending shockwaves of pleasure from her breast to her clit, making her involuntarily clench around him.  His answering groan reverberated against her skin and Felicity arched into him, wrapping her hands around his head and shoulder, pulling him closer.

 

“ _God_.  You’re not close enough,” Felicity whined.

 

His groans mixed with chuckles as Oliver shifted, sitting up, managing to do so without her nipple becoming dislodged from his mouth and his cock…well, his cock only seemed to shift deeper…how could he keep getting deeper?  How was that possible?

 

His tongue began flicking her nipple.  Oliver was torturing her.  She couldn't stand any more.  “More.  Closer,” Felicity demanded, illogical and perverse.  She was going insane from pleasure.

 

Oliver reached around and guided her calves around his hips, shifting her body so they melded perfectly, her seated atop him.  Felicity wrapped her arms around him as well.

 

“Oh _yessss_ …” Felicity hadn't realized what she had wanted, but this was _definitely_ it.  “Yes…this is just right.”

 

Humming around her areola, Oliver gave her breast one final suck before straightening his back and hauling her even closer, one hand cupping her ass, the other flat against her back so their chests were meshed together and they were nose to nose, eye to eye.

 

“Mmm,” Oliver hummed in that deep tender that sent chills up Felicity’s spine.  “Perfect.” 

 

Oliver kissed her nose, then her mouth, before guiding Felicity’s hips in a perfect rotation that made her breath hiss.  It was slow and sensual, but brought a new and more direct pressure on her clit.   It should be too much.

 

Italmost was, but her eyes were locked with his and in that…in that moment, the emotional connection was so strong that the pleasure seemed almost like a background hum.  The intimacy was so intense it should be frightening. And it was.  But Felicity could see the fear and bravery reflected in Oliver's eyes and it bolstered her courage, helped her sink even further into him.

 

“I love you…” Oliver murmured, his voice cracking.

 

“…God, so much…so much, Oliver.”

 

It was almost a shared thought.  So it wasn't surprising when they seemed to move as one back into a slow, sensual kiss.  Their heads slanted together flawlessly, their lips sealed perfectly and their tongues fell into rhythm with their hips. 

 

And it went on and on and on. 

 

But the pleasure wouldn't stay in the background.  It pushed its way up front and Felicity’s coordination left her, her lips sloppily dragging away from Oliver’s, running across and resting against his cheek, along the rasp of his stubble. 

 

Oliver rubbed her back, deep wide strokes of his hands up the length of her body as Felicity wrapped her arms and legs as tightly as she could around him.  Her body seemed to have this intense need to _merge,_ as clichéd as that sounded.

 

She pressed her face against Oliver’s neck, making her glasses bite into their skin.  Felicity tossed them on to the side table in frustration, uncaring when they missed and fell to the floor.

 

“Felicity?” Oliver asked, his voice thick and gravely.

 

“Sight is my least important sense right now,” Felicity managed to gasp out, rubbing her face against his neck, sucking a path along his wide shoulders.

 

Oliver's laugh vibrated through Felicity’s chest and puffed across her neck, but instead of speaking, he found the spot where her neck met her shoulder and sucked.  And the pleasure spiked again.

 

It went on like that for endless, euphoric moments.  Moments of rolling bliss.  Felicity wondered if it would ever stop.    She had no idea how long they made love like that.  Slowly, sensually, emotionally, they made love. 

 

Felicity had never experienced anything like it before.  Never even used that term in her head without a mental eye-roll.  But she understood its meaning now and it went far beyond anything in her mother’s not-so-secret stash of romance novels.

 

Just when she thought this would go on forever, Oliver pulled Felicity closer and bucked his hips.  It seemed he was done letting her control the gentle rocking.  His caresses became firmer, rougher, more desperate.  Kisses became nips became bites.

 

"I... _Felicity_?”

 

The look in his eyes was complete desperation and it made Felicity’s heart melt.  “Let go, Oliver,” she whispered.

 

But he shook his head frantically, finally looking as delirious as Felicity felt.  Oliver's hands snuck between them and his thumbs and forefingers closed around her nipples, pulling at them roughly, in tandem.

 

Felicity screamed.  Instantly, she was as desperate as Oliver.  More.  Oh God, it had to be more.  Her hips bucked wildly, moving with something that could barely be considered a rhythm.  

 

Oliver continued his assault on her nipples and it was downright graceful compared to Felicity’s frenzied movements.  His mouth latched onto her neck, providing a steady pressure of teeth and suction.

 

"Ahhhhh,” Felicity screamed her throat raw at the sudden spike and crash that had her arch and finally go limp, at last ending the blissful torture.  She grasped at Oliver’s hands, gracelessly pulling them away from her suddenly too sensitive breasts.

 

“ _Christ_ ,” Oliver roared, toppling her over, his arms going under her knees as he finally let go.   He pounded into her, his cheek meshed against hers, his mouth opened in wordless cries.

 

Felicity ran her hands over his sweaty back and through his hair, holding Oliver close as he gave in to himself.  She was sensitive, so sensitive, but it still felt wonderful.  And watching Oliver lose control, being responsible for it…it was beyond anything.

 

Oliver didn't last long after that.  Couldn't possibly.  He stilled and groaned, deep and low enough to send echoes of pleasure throughout Felicity’s exhausted body.

 

Again, Oliver flooded her and collapsed on top of her.  But now, Felicity realized that the first time, he hadn't really let himself fall into her.  This time, she had heavy, warm, slack man draped over her like a blanket.  She hugged him to her as tightly as her spent arms and legs would allow, listening to his breath stutter in her ear.

 

It was long minutes before Oliver seemed to gather strength enough to heave himself off of her and throw his body onto the bed next to her.  Felicity felt him fumble for her hand and she caught it, tangling their fingers together and throwing her ankle over his. 

 

She wanted the connection, but suddenly Felicity’s whole body seemed too sensitive to touch anything but air.

 

Felicity didn't know how long they lay there, spread-eagle on the large bed, listening to each other's breathing return to normal, connected only by ankle and Oliver's firm grip on her hand.

 

When she finally gathered enough strength, Felicity murmured, “Wow.”

 

“Yeah.”  He was still out of breath.  Unusually so for Oliver.

 

“That was amazing.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Felicity turned her head and looked over at him.  Oliver was a little blurry around the edges without her glasses, but still gorgeous.  She watched the strong lines of his face as he stared at the ceiling, watched the rise and fall of his chest.   Mine, she thought, feeling a wave of possessiveness that she hadn't known herself capable of.

 

Biting her lip, Felicity asked, “Have you ever—? “

 

“ _Never_ ,” Oliver insisted, reverent, squeezing her hand again.

 

Smiling, Felicity turned back to look at the ceiling, feeling rather giddy and wondering if it was worth the effort to turn on the ceiling fan to cool their overheated bodies.

 

“You know what?  I don’t think amazing is a strong enough word,” Felicity mused, still contemplating the fan.

 

“No?” Oliver prompted, amusement clear in his tone. 

 

“Don’t you think?”

 

He laughed at that.  “I’m having a lot of trouble with thought, actually.  And words.  I think you melted my brain, Felicity.”

 

That started her giggling and she flopped over on her side to look at Oliver.  He was still staring at the ceiling, but grinning from ear to ear. 

 

“How about epic?  I think epic is a good word.”

 

Oliver let out a bark of laughter, rolling his head so he could meet her eyes.

 

Felicity lifted an eyebrow.  “What?  You don’t agree?”  But despite the confidence in her tone she felt a sprinkle of self-consciousness low in her belly.

 

But Oliver shifted toward her, pressing his lips to her shoulder.  “Absolutely.  Epic is a perfect word.”  He flung an arm around her middle and dragged her closer.  “ _You’re_ perfect.  But, I think you may have broke me.”

 

Felicity pressed her laughter into his sweaty brow, running a hand over his neck and arm.  “You don't look broken to me.”  She let all her admiration come out in her tone. 

 

“It’s my brain that’s broken,” Oliver murmured, nuzzling her chin before lying his head on her breast.  Yawning, he asked, “You want some water or something?”

 

A rush of affection came over her.  “You really are the perfect boyfriend.”

 

Oliver squeezed Felicity in a one armed hug.  “You must be thirsty after all that.”

 

“Yeah,” Felicity agreed, closing her eyes and stroking Oliver head.  She fell asleep before she could hear his response.

 

 

********

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact. I do my last edit by reading aloud. Yeah, just another reason smut is difficult.
> 
> I hope everyone enjoyed it. Only two more chapters and an epilogue left.
> 
> Thanks for reading.
> 
> Emmy


	13. The New Reality

Oliver stood at the window watching Ryan and Mac pack equipment into their SUV.  It was raining.  There hadn't been much rain in the month he and Felicity had stayed in this little cabin, but it seemed fitting that it poured on the day they left.

 

There was a pit in his stomach.  It had been a long time since he had been sad to leave a place.  But there was a melancholy settling in that was akin to grief.  Oliver had never been happier than he had in this isolated little cabin. 

 

They should be feeling stir-crazy by now, so ready to see something, _anything,_ but the inside of this small house and confines of its remote property.  Yet, somehow, Oliver felt none of that.   This place meant something to him…to _them_.  He really wasn't ready to leave and go back to reality.   Though, honestly, he didn't know if he ever would be.

 

Oliver wondered what he would have to do to get ARGUS to give him the cabin.   Surely, when they were finally done with Ra’s, Amanda would have a mission for him.  A way to barter his services so he could buy this place for Felicity.  It would be worth it.  Probably.  One never knew with Amanda.

 

But the idea of never being here again...it felt like another loss.  And they'd both lost so much. Too much. 

 

A door opened and the ARGUS stylist came out of the bedroom carrying her various beauty… _things_.   Yes, ARGUS had brought with them a stylist who specialized in undercover work to transform them back into Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak. 

 

It seemed more than a little extreme to him.  Oliver didn't understand why Mac and Ryan couldn't have just brought them a new set of clothes and some make up, maybe hair-dye.   But, Felicity had explained that, apparently, one home dye job a century was more than enough.

 

Felicity had been in that room with the stylist for _hours_.  Oliver had had time to get a physical, go through an exercise/physical therapy evaluation, and shower, all without a glimpse of her.  It was the longest they'd been apart since he'd woken up in the Himalayas.  

 

Oliver exchanged pleasantries with the stylist and held the door for her as she joined her fellow agents outside.  As the stylist climbed into the SUV, she waved at him through the window.  Oliver waved back and did his best to smile at the agents as they pulled out.  He really did owe them a lot. 

They left behind a shiny black sedan.  Oliver and Felicity were to drive themselves to Houston.  Sitting on the kitchen table was a set of tickets, one-way, Houston International to Starling City Airport.  Along with their passports.  Their _real_ passports. 

 

Oliver frowned and dug his hands deep into his pockets, trying not to think about when they would have to leave to make their flight. 

 

Then Felicity stepped out of the bedroom. 

 

Oliver’s breath caught. 

 

It was… _her_ again. 

 

Felicity’s hair was back to its beautiful butter blond color.  High ponytail.  Fuchsia lips and perfect make-up. Two-tone rectangular glasses.  Bright pink, fitted top.  Bell-shaped skirt that came to mid-thigh and was covered in happy pink and orange flowers.  Four-inch patent leather shoes with a jaunty bow on the side.   

 

“There’s my girl,” Oliver breathed, a smile taking over his face.

 

Just seeing her like this, like _his_ Felicity, made his melancholy dissipate.  Despite all the dangers going home brought, Oliver was really looking forward to them being _them_.  Just Oliver and Felicity.   But then he saw her face and…

 

She wasn’t feeling the same sense of peace, of rightness.  Felicity was wringing her hands together and it looked as if she were trying to smile but couldn’t quite manage it.

 

“Felicity?” Oliver questioned, stepping forward and reaching for her.  But she took a reflexive step back and his stomach clenched, what the hell was going on here?

 

“We haven’t talked about what’s going to happen once we’re back in Starling,” Felicity blurted out, swallowing and bracing herself.  As if she were afraid to ask the question.

 

She was baffling. 

 

“Felicity, baby, we have a flow chart detailing what we are going to do once we are back in Starling.”  Oliver took another step toward her, but she still looked like she wanted to run.  “The most extensive flow chart I have ever seen.”

 

Felicity started to pace, worrying her brightly painted lips between her teeth.  “I don’t mean about _that_.”  She waved her hand at him awkwardly.  “ _That_ we have under control.  I mean, we don’t, because we have to see what happens, but, I mean, we have a plan…plans…multiple plans for Ra’s and the League and…”  She rounded on him, stopping abruptly.  “I mean about _us_.  We haven’t discussed what is going to happen with us.  When we get back.”

 

Oliver froze, taken aback, because he hadn’t realized that there was anything else they needed to discuss.  They were good, right?

 

 “Felicity…I don’t know—”

 

“I think you do actually,” Felicity all but accused.  “I think…I _know_ you have ideas about how you think things need to go.  I know _you_.”

 

Blinking and shaking his head, Oliver tried to catch up.  “Felicity, what are you—?”

 

“I know you have… _restrictions_.  Rules, or whatever, that you think will keep me safe.  And I would like to discuss them before we leave.”  Felicity stood ramrod stiff, eyes flitting around but not meeting his, arms tightly crossed across her chest.   “No.  I’d like to discuss it _right_ _now_.”

 

Well _shit_.  Of course, Oliver had some _ideas_ …plans, if you will, that would make things safer, but nothing for Felicity to be acting this freaked out about.  He figured they could have a nice mature conversation on the five-hour drive to Houston.

 

“ _Now_ , Oliver.”

 

What the fuck?  “Well, I…”

 

“Spit it out, Oliver!”

 

This was ridiculous!  Why was Felicity angry?  He hadn’t _done_ anything.  Fine.  Whatever.

 

“You know what...”  Oliver gritted his teeth in frustration and dug his hands into his pockets.  “You want to do this, then fine, let’s do this.  I think… I think we should keep things quiet—”

 

“Quiet?” Felicity squeaked.  But then she nodded and it was oh so clear by her pierced lips and narrowed eyes that she was _not_ agreeing with him. 

 

Felicity was going to be the death of him.  And, now, Oliver was so tied up in knots that he didn’t even know what he was saying.  “I just don’t think we should _advertise_ our relationship when we get back.  I think you will be safer if you don’t have your picture on the front cover of every tabloid.”

 

Felicity closed her eyes.  “You want to sneak around.”

  That is not what he meant.  He didn’t deserve this.  “That’s not what I said.”  Now _Oliver_ was getting angry.  

 

Turning from him, Felicity paced away, stalking over to the coach where she apparently decided it would be an excellent time to start straightening the pillows.  Violently.

 

“Maybe we should just cool the whole thing down,” she lashed out, her words exploding into the room like grenades.  “If we have to _hide_ ,” Felicity sneered, “then maybe we should just wait until it’s all over and see how things are.  Wait until Ra’s—”

 

Oliver was next to her in two long strides, grabbing her arm and swinging her around to look at him.  “What the hell, Felicity!”

 

She squeezed her eyes shut and when she opened them, tears started to pour out.  Felicity’s shoulders drooped and the fight went out of her.  “I just want to be prepared,” she whimpered.

 

“By breaking up with me!?” Oliver demanded, still way too angry to melt at Felicity’s tears just yet.  His heart was pounding and it had lodged itself in his throat.  “I _know_ that’s not what you want,” he insisted, ignoring the voice in his head that said it could be.  “And it sure as _hell_ isn’t what I want—”

 

“But what if it doesn’t work?” Felicity looked up at him with such worry in her eyes and, this time, Oliver could feel himself soften.  “In Starling, I mean?  Everything is so prefect here… but what if—?”

 

The tears were leaving trails down Felicity’s face and the fear in her voice along with the anxiety in Oliver’s own gut made him clutch her arms tighter.  He had to force himself to loosen his grasp so he didn’t bruise her.

 

“We don’t have to go home,” Oliver offered, swallowing through a thickened throat and making a decision.  A decision to put Felicity first.   “We can take those passports, for Hannah and William Green.  We can disappear.  If that’s what you want.  Start over.  You know that those accounts I have can’t be traced.”

 

Felicity was looking up at him now, her mouth open in shock.  Oliver rubbed her arms, trying to soothe any damage he’d done with his panicked grip. 

 

“We can go anywhere you want,” Oliver promised, meaning it.  “We can get in that car and drive in any direction.”

 

She had moved her hands from clutching her own shoulders to grasping Oliver’s shirt, leaning toward him and his stomach unclenched just a bit.  This was right.  Whatever Felicity chose, that’s what he wanted.

 

“You would do that?” Felicity’s voice was surprised, awed.  “For me?”

 

“For us,” Oliver corrected, nodding, moving his arms so they circled her.  “Yes.  If that’s what you want.”

 

Felicity swallowed.  “But what about Thea?”

 

What about Thea?  Could Oliver abandon his sister after everything that had happened to them both?

 

But Oliver had almost died.  When he left to face Ra’s Al Gul he’d been prepared to never see Thea again.  “I…If I stay dead, Ra’s should leave Thea alone.  Malcolm will protect her.”  And Oliver would find a way to see his sister again.  Someday.

 

Felicity’s hands found Oliver’s face and she looked steadily into his eyes, asking earnestly, “Is this what you want?”

 

Oliver closed his eyes and tilted his head back.  He honestly didn’t know anymore.  So, meeting her gaze again, he answered the only way he could, “I want you to be happy.  I want you to be safe.”

 

Sniffing, Felicity managed a small smile.  The tears seemed to be slowing, if not stopped.  Oliver wiped her cheeks so he could be sure.

 

“But what do _you_ want?” Felicity whispered.  “For you?”

 

The answer was easier than Oliver had thought it would be.  “I just want to be with you.”

 

The tears Oliver thought had stopped, began again and Felicity fell into him with a sob, burying her face in Oliver’s shirt as he hugged her to him.

 

His heart was breaking and, honestly, he had no idea what to do next.  Oliver found the arm chair and sat, pulling Felicity across his lap, tucking her head under his chin. 

 

Oliver’s mind was already on the places they could go, the best options to disappear.  They really couldn’t use those passports for very long.  Not unless they wanted ARGUS to find them. Their best bet was to use them to get out of the country and pick up another set he had hidden and move again.

 

Felicity sniffed and dried her cheeks, looking up at him with bright eyes and rosy cheeks.  That was some fantastic make-up, because it wasn’t so much as smudged.  God, she looked beautiful.

 

“We have a plane to catch,” Felicity whispered.

 

Oliver heart skipped a beat.  “Do we?” he asked, his voice as low as hers.

 

Felicity smiled a bit sadly, sitting up in his lap.  “We aren’t going to run, Oliver.  We have friends counting on us.  Family.”

 

She leaned in to kiss him and Oliver met her half-way, feeling a rush of affection.  Of Pride.  He loved her so much.

 

“Though, I do appreciate the sentiment,” Felicity murmured against his lips as she broke away.  She stood, brushing the wrinkles from her skirt and straightening her glasses.  “Am I mess now?” she asked.

 

Oliver shook his head.  “Not even a little bit.”

 

Felicity scoffed, her eyes searching for her bag as she delicately wiped under her eyes. 

 

Oliver caught her hand as she went to slip away, smiling reassuringly.  “You look beautiful.  Honest.  Perfect, even.  Like you’re ready to walk into QC and take over the world.”  He refused to call it Palmer Tech unless absolutely necessary.

 

Felicity’s fidgeting stopped and she stepped between Oliver’s legs and looping her arms around his neck, smiling at him like she didn’t quite believe him, but thought he hung the moon and stars anyway.  “Are you sure _you_ don’t need glasses?”

 

Shaking his head, Oliver settled him hands on her hips and asked her in all seriousness, “Are you sure this is what you want?”  


“I want to go home, Oliver,” Felicity told him earnestly.  “I just want us to still be… _us_ when we get off the plane.”

 

Of that, Oliver had complete confidence.  “We’ve always been _us_.”

 

Felicity rolled her eyes and Oliver was certain she’d misunderstood when she said, “Well, I’m really not prepared to go back to the _old_ us.”

 

As if those people even existed anymore.  Oliver frowned.  He was getting a little annoyed at her lack of faith in him.  “Felicity, how many times do I need to tell you I’m all in?  Have I ever done anything to make you think I—?”

 

“Just once more, Please.”  Felicity bit her lip and looked up at him though lowered lashes, which was just not even a little bit fair.  “Because I’m insecure.”  She was making him melt, even though Oliver knew it was happening, even though he fought it.  Her fingers had found their way to his jaw and her thumbs stroked his stubble.  “And maybe once more when we get home, just to avoid any more messy scenes.”

 

Defeated, Oliver huffed out a small laugh.  Felicity was lucky she was so damned cute.  He stroked her face and cupped her chin in his hand, making sure she was looking him in the eye.

 

“Felicity Smoak, I love you,” Oliver swore, slowly and deliberately.  “I am completely, totally, one hundred percent committed to being with you.  I am _not_ leaving you.  Not willingly.  Not ever.”

 

“Well, then,” Felicity sniffed, her voice cracking.  “I guess I’m being silly then.”

 

“Yes.  Very,” Oliver agreed with no small amount of relief.

 

Felicity didn’t roll her eyes or reprimand him.  She just leaned in and kissed him, long and slow.  Oliver cupped the back of her head and savored the feeling of her lips sliding across his. 

 

This was still his.  It was going to stay his.  And they were going to keep doing this as often as they wanted.  So help him God.

 

Licking her lips, Felicity smiled when she finally ended the kiss.  “I love you and am fully committed, as well.  Just in case that wasn’t clear.”

 

This time, Oliver had to fight _himself_ to keep from rolling his eyes.  “Well, you _did_ just try to break up with me,” he grumbled.

 

The little brat laughed at him.  “Not really.”

 

Oliver scowled at her.  “Sure felt like it.”

 

At least, Felicity had the grace to look contrite.  She climbed back onto his lap, facing him this time, and Oliver had to say, he liked the way she apologized. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Felicity murmured.  “I just really, really like it here.”

 

“Me too,” Oliver admitted quietly, letting his head fall forward onto her shoulder as his hands found their way under her skirt to rest on her thighs.  One of Felicity’s hands fell to his nape, rubbing and massaging, turning him into mush.  He inhaled her scent.  He really wanted to stay.  Just like this.  Forever.

 

But he couldn’t, so he said, “But I also really, really love this skirt.”  Because he did.  Particularly the easy access.  Oliver looked up at her with a grin and ran a hand over her ponytail.  “And your hair like this…not that you weren’t beautiful as a brunette—”

 

Felicity laughed, cutting Oliver off as he felt himself start to dig a nice little hole.  “It’s ok.  I know I look better as a blond.”

 

“ _No_.  You are beautiful no matter what,” Oliver insisted.  They really need to work on this insecurity thing.  “You just look more… _Felicity_ blond.”  Gee, that was smooth.  “Sunnier.”  She tilted her head and Oliver fell into that babbling teenager thing he sometimes did around her.  Ugh.  “Actually, you just look fucking amazing.  You walked out here and took my breath away.  So…my beautiful, brilliant, quirky Felicity.”

 

Blushing, Felicity chewed on her lip, but her eyes were thrilled, so Oliver knew he hadn’t messed up.  “You know, you don’t have to say that stuff just to get laid—”

 

Oliver laughed.  He couldn’t help it.  “Yes.  I _do_ know that.  Do _you_ know you need to stop selling yourself short?”

 

“I’ll work on that.”  Felicity ran her hands up Oliver’s chest, a very pleased look on her face.  “You look positively edible yourself.”  She punctuated this with a short, nipping kiss.

 

“It was just a haircut,” Oliver protested.  “It was hardly a transformation, like…”  He became distracted again by her skirt, adjusting her knees next to his thighs and flouncing the skirt over them both.  “I _really_ loved these skirts when you were my EA.  They were my favorites, or my least favorites… They were the ones that drove me the most insane.”

 

“Really?” Felicity shifted closer, driving the present day Oliver a little crazy as well.  She sounded surprised, but very pleased, and she grinned at him flirtatiously.  “I would have thought you would have preferred the tight ones.”

 

The look in her eye made Oliver wonder if her entire upgraded wardrobe that year had been designed to make him lose his fragile grip on sanity.  If it was, Felicity had nearly succeeded. 

 

“Those did… _do_ make your ass look fantastic,” he conceded.  Slipping his hands under her skirt, Oliver cupped said fantastic ass.  “But it was the easy access that had me,” he slipped two fingers under her panties, “ _inspired_.”

 

“Oliver!” Felicity squeaked.

 

“Mmmm,” he hummed, happily, his fingers lightly exploring.  Felicity was getting wetter by the second.  “And you thought I was thinking about Arrow business during those long Board Meetings.”

 

“Well,” Felicity gasped, already breathless.  Oliver loved how quickly he could turn her on.  “I knew you weren’t thinking about QC business.”

 

“Nope.”  Oliver laughed, pressing a kiss to her chin and whispering against her ear, “I was thinking about flipping these skirts up and becoming the womanizing stereotype everyone thought I was.”

 

Felicity laughed out loud at that, her bright, musical laugh.  “Really?  From the beginning?”

 

Oliver rolled his eyes.  As if there was a man in that office who wasn’t thinking exactly that when she pranced around in those dresses.  “I certainly tried not to.  Didn’t work.  Might have made me cranky.”

 

It looked as if Felicity had a snarky response to that, but then seemed to have a better idea, and pulled his face to hers, slanting her lips over his.   Her tongue ran across the seam if Oliver's mouth and he granted her access gladly.  She plastered herself against him, grinding her hips between his fingers and the erection pressed against her thigh. 

 

“You know, this my favorite position,” Felicity gasped against his lips. 

 

"Mmmm.  I know.”  Oliver sucked her lower lip between his.   Though, personally, he didn't think they'd tried enough for her to pick a favorite yet.  He had _so_ much more to show her.  “One good thing about going home… more surfaces to christen.  In your apartment.  The Loft…The Foundry…”   God, the fantasies he had about the Foundry.

 

Felicity pulled back, looking at him a little incredulously.  “And exactly how are we supposed to do _that_ it you want to stay,” she actually did those annoying air quotes things, “ _secret_.”

 

“I didn't say _secret_.”  Oliver rolled his eyes, his fingers stilling as he became annoyed again.  “You didn't let me talk.  You just attacked.”

 

That crease appeared between Felicity’s brows.  “Fine.  I'm listening now.”

 

Oliver took a breath, gripping her thighs to center himself.  “I _meant,_ that I don’t think we should _advertise_ our relationship.  Not right away.  That we should stay on the down-low.   Stay out of the tabloids and behind closed doors.  Among friends.  You said that all the important people know about the Arrow.  Well, as far as I'm concerned, those are the only people who need to know about us.”  Oliver exhaled.  “For now, anyway.”

 

Felicity considered him, but the furrow was gone and her hands were on Oliver’s shoulders, thumbs caressing his collarbones.  All good signs.

 

“What about Thea?”

 

Swallowing, Oliver thought about that one.  “I think…. I think you're right.  I need to tell her about the Arrow.  About us.  About everything.”  It was a terrifying thought.

 

“Oh Oliver…I'm so proud of you.”

 

Oliver preened, even though he knew it was silly.  But he got a familiar rush whenever Felicity smiled at him just that way.  It was the look that made him feel like he could move mountains.  Save cities.  

 

“Well, that's good, because I'm going to need your support if Thea never speaks to me again,” Oliver said, wryly, pulling Felicity a little closer.

 

“She’ll speak to you,” Felicity insisted, confident.  “Thea loves you and, besides, it's impossible not to forgive you once you see all the good you've done.”

 

Oliver couldn't help but grin.  “I don't think everyone would agree with you.”

 

“ _Everyone_ doesn't know what they're talking about.  They don't know the real you.  I do.  Thea does.   She might be… _perturbed_ when you first tell her, but she'll get over it.  Quickly, I think.”

 

“I hope so.”

 

Felicity had such confidence in him.  He just needed her to have it in herself.

 

“Well, if you want Thea on your good side we may not want to have sex in her kitchen.”  Felicity grinned cheekily.  “And after your no babies in the Liar rule, I can't imagine Digg being ok with _sex_ in the Lair.”

 

Squeezing her ass for her snark, Oliver smirked at her.  “I wasn’t planning on asking them to watch.”  He pulled Felicity closer and dove in for her neck.  He made swift work of the soft flesh, lavishing it with sucking kisses, working his way up to her ear.  “What, you have no faith in my ability to be stealthy?”

 

Felicity hummed and arched her neck for him.  “ _’Scream for me, Felicity’_ ” she mimicked.  “ _Louder, baby_.”

 

Oliver let out a loud guffaw, but then hugged her closer.  “That was because we were in the middle of nowhere.  I can adapt for city life.”

 

Then Oliver sucked her earlobe into his mouth, working around the dangly earring that came with her ‘Felicity’ outfit and moving quickly to the industrial piercing.  There was no pretense now.  Felicity knew what he was doing.  Oliver knew what he was doing.  Everyone was happy with the plan and expected outcome.

As Oliver began pulling at the piercing with his teeth, he worked his fingers back into her panties and she moaned, low and loud.  “Ok, ok… we’ll have to…” Felicity laughed breathlessly, “be…mmm...creative since we’ll be sleeping separately for a while.”

 

“What!”  Oliver reared back, feeling a little like someone dumped cold water over his head.  “No.  What? No.”

 

Felicity just looked at him incredulously, her eyes wide.  “Uhh…moving in together isn’t exactly on the ‘down-low’, Oliver.”  Again, with those damn air quotes.

 

“Well, I wasn’t planning on making a big thing about hiring a real-estate agent and a moving company.  But that certainly doesn’t mean we’re sleeping _apart_.”  Oliver was aware that he bit the word out as if Felicity had suggested they ask a family of pit vipers to move in with them, but he could feel his heart rate accelerate and that old feeling of panic rise, so he wasn’t exactly in control of his tone.

 

Felicity looked like she didn’t know if she should laugh or be concerned.  “Oliver, I’m not sure—”

 

“You are _not_ sleeping without me, Felicity.  That is non-negotiable.”   He sounded rational.  At least, Oliver thought he did.  He knew this was quickly leaving sanity station.

 

The furrow between Felicity’s brows was back.  Though now it looked more confused than anything.  “So… what?  We take turns climbing in and out of each other’s windows?”

 

“That works.”

 

“ _Oliver_!”  This time, Felicity did laugh.  Disbelievingly, but still.

 

 “I’m sure you can walk through the front door without alerting the paparazzi,” Oliver conceded.  “We’re known friends, after all.”  He really didn’t think this was unreasonable.

 

Felicity leaned back on his thighs, a serious look on her face.  Uh oh.  “Oliver…first of all, would you, please, take your hand out of my panties?  I need to focus for a minute.”

 

“Mmhh,” Oliver grunted, very maturely.

 

“ _Oliver_ …”

 

Gritting his teeth, Oliver moved his hand to her thigh.  “Fine.”

 

This time, it was Felicity who took Oliver’s chin in her hand to make him look her in the eye.  “We need to stop dancing around this.  I want to know _exactly_ how you envision things going once we get home.  Before I agree to anything.  Because, just to be clear, I haven’t agreed to a _single_ thing yet.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one more chapter, then an epilogue (which, unfortunately, has not been written yet). Too many stories in my head, no time to write them down. Sigh. The holidays are time consuming.
> 
> Hope everyone is having a great holiday season! Stop by and let me know what you think if you can spare the time.
> 
> Emmy


	14. Going Home

This time, it was Felicity who took Oliver’s chin in her hand to make him look her in the eye.  “We need to stop dancing around this.  I want to know _exactly_ how you envision things going once we get home.  Before I agree to anything.  Because, just to be clear, I haven’t agreed to a _single_ thing yet.”

 

Oliver’s eyes widened.  “You most certainly _did_ agree that we are _not_ breaking up,” he all but growled, his hands digging into her thighs. 

 

“Yes, I did,” Felicity replied gently, her hand running down his cheek until Oliver finally relaxed.  Then she threw out, “But I did _not_ agree to be your dirty little secret.”

 

“I would never…” Oliver grunted in frustration, again, upset that she would think he would suggest such a thing.  “ _Felicity_ —” __

She placed her fingers over his mouth, saying quietly and calmly, “Before we get into another stupid, irrational argument, can you, please, just tell me what you meant when you said we should keep things secret?”

 

“I never said ‘ _secret’_ ,” Oliver protested for the billionth time.  Then he took a deep breath to try and steady himself before he spoke.  “I said ‘quiet’, not ‘secret.’  There’s a difference.”  She gave him a look and he _again_ defended, “There _is_.  I just meant that maybe we shouldn’t hold hands on the street or make public appearances together or go on dates to public restaurants.”

 

When Felicity opened her mouth to interrupt it was Oliver, this time, who put his fingers over her lips to make her wait.  “We can stay in.  Have dates at home.  I’ll cook.”  He didn’t know when this became something he _needed_ to convince her of, but it had.  “We can rent movies, instead of _going_ to the movies.  If you want fancy, we can still do fancy.  We can dress up and order in and do a million candles.  Anything you want.  Just away from the cameras and the storefront windows and the goddamn bombs.”

 

Somewhere during his speech, Felicity’s reproachful look had melted into one that was soft and sympathetic.  The panic Oliver had been feeling finally started to calm and fade away.

 

Smiling the tiniest bit, Felicity murmured, “Well, public dates are rather nerve-racking.  All those people, watching, judging.”

 

Oliver blew out a breath, relieved at the concession, and confessed.  “I really can’t relax in crowds.”

 

That earned him another smile.  Her fuchsia nails ran over his scalp, further relaxing Oliver’s tense muscles.  “I know,” she whispered, almost sadly, as if she were upset at herself for not understanding earlier.  “I can live with… _private_ dates,” Felicity smirked a little at that.  “But no beards, no pretending to date other people.  You need to go to a gala, you go alone.”

 

 _Please_.  “How about I don’t go at all,” Oliver offered, because that sure as hell wasn’t a sacrifice.  Felicity raised an eyebrow and he added, “Until you can go with me.”

 

Felicity tilted her head to the side and narrowed her eyes at him.  “Why do I feel like I just became your excuse to stay home.”

 

“Those things are _awful_ ,” Oliver argued without repentance.  “You hate them too.”

 

“That’s because I was there as your _secretary_.”

 

“Trust me, you were better off there as my _Executive Assistant_ ,” Oliver stressed giving her a look.  “As my _girlfriend_ you’ll have to pretend to like people who turn your stomach and listen to their inane prattle.  All things you hate—”

 

“And wear a beautiful dress,” Felicity cajoled, her arms looped around his neck, “and hold your hand and slow dance—”

 

“I don’t dance—”

 

“You will with me.  Come on, you’re the most graceful man I know—”  


“Fine.”  Because, he would.  Oliver would dance with her if it made her happy.  It was a small price to see Felicity smile.  “I’ll dance.  After.  I promise.”

 

“Yay.”  Felicity bounced a bit when she said it and Oliver couldn’t help but smile.  This was the light he had been missing all his life.  “Ok, so until Ra’s is out if the picture, it’s hands to ourselves in public.  You know, you’re going to have a harder time with that than me, right?”

 

“What are you talking about?” Oliver laughed.  “You have your hands all over me.”  


Felicity shrugged.  “Yes, but I’ve _always_ had my hands all over you.  I’m a touchy person.  People would think it was weird if I _stopped_ touching you.”  She grinned at him like the cat that ate the canary…no he wasn’t going there.

 

Oliver shook his head, letting her have that one.  “I probably will have trouble not touching you, but I can control myself.”  Felicity lifted an eyebrow and Oliver rolled his eyes.  “I don’t see why we need to go out much, anyway.  We spend most of our time at the Foundry…where there will _not_ be a no touching rule.”

 

Felicity giggled.  “Don’t Digg and Roy have a say in that?”

 

“I’ve had to watch Roy with my sister, so, no, he has no say.  And Digg sent you to Nepal in a clear match-making ploy.”

 

“Doesn’t that just mean we owe him?”

 

Doesn’t it, indeed?  Digg and Lyla needed a fruit basket or a wine basket…or an all-expense paid vacation with free babysitting.  It was too bad Oliver wasn’t rich anymore.

 

“Doesn’t mean I’m keeping my hands to myself at the Foundry.”

 

Luckily, Felicity didn’t seem perturbed about that at all, instead saying, “I think I can agree to those terms.  I don’t know how we’re going to pull off sleeping together every night—”

 

“No!” Oliver protested, much too loudly, his muscles tensing again.  “I told you.  That is non-negotiable.”

 

The incredulous, wide-eyed look was back.  “Oliver, what—?”

 

“I’d rather both of us be on the cover of every tabloid, half-naked, than let you sleep alone—“  


“Excuse me.  What—?”

 

“No.  Please, listen.”  Oliver forced himself to relax his hold and lower his tone.  Felicity was looking at him like a caveman again.  She just didn’t understand.  “It’s not…”  He swallowed.  “The idea of you, alone, asleep and vulnerable in your apartment makes my skin crawl.  I would never be able to sleep knowing you were defenseless like that.”

 

As Oliver had hoped, Felicity deflated.  “Oliver, sweetheart, I’ve been sleeping there alone for years.  I have a state of the art security system.  I’m perfectly safe—”  


“You’re not safe _enough_ ,” he growled, then closed his eyes and counted backwards from three.  “Not anymore,” Oliver said more softly, trying to beseech her with his eyes.  “ _Please_ , Felicity.”

 

Oliver watched with no little relief as defensive, feminist, self-righteousness transformed into sweet compassion and then, finally, happy flirtatiousness as a smile spread across Felicity’s face.  It was fascinating to watch the flickers of emotion across her face, feel the change in her body language, in the way she touched him.

 

“Are you sure this has nothing to do with easy access to sex?” Felicity asked with a teasing half-grin.

 

But Oliver wasn't done being serious yet.  “It is an absolute fact that I love sleeping next to you. And waking up with you.  And that…I've slept better and had fewer nightmares than I have in years.  And, yes, that is a bonus.  As is the best sex I’ve ever had.   But I _need_ to know that if anyone comes after you in your sleep, I'm there to stop them.” 

 

Felicity’s smile had faded during Oliver’s earnest speech.  Her eyes searched his face and he could almost hear the wheels in her busy mind turning.  Oliver fought the urge to tense up, feeling open and exposed.

 

“Ok.”

 

“Ok?”  Oliver asked, slightly incredulous.  ‘Ok’ to what?

 

Again her expression changed and the bright, happy Felicity smile was back.  “Ok, I accept your terms.”

 

It took Oliver a minute to realize the full import of her words.  When it sunk in what it meant, that she was accepting _all_ of it…that they were going home together, to _be_ together, that Felicity was accepting the stipulations he was making to keep her safe, the tension left him so quickly he was dizzy with it.

 

“Thank God,” Oliver breathed, his forehead falling to Felicity’s shoulder as he hugged her to him.

 

Oliver felt a kiss against his crown and looked up to see her grinning down at him, her smile as bright as the sun.  Felicity bit her lip, eyes mischievous as she shifted in his lap and arched her neck.  It amazed him that she could be sexy as hell and have no idea that she was doing it.  Well, judging by her smile, maybe she did know. 

 

He leaned back in the arm chair and smiled at her for a moment, his worries about going home slipping away.  Suddenly, Oliver couldn’t wait. 

 

Couldn’t wait to bring Felicity to the Loft.  Have dinner in front of the fire.  Introduce, _really_ _introduce_ , her to his sister.  Explore her apartment…Oliver had barely even seen Felicity’s place.  He had spent hours imagining what her bedroom would look like.  Fantasizing about climbing in her fire escape.  And now he would get to sleep there with her.  He had the _right_.

 

Oliver couldn’t even find it in himself to worry about Ra’s.  In that moment, he felt like he… _they_ could accomplish anything. 

 

His hands found their way back to her smooth, bare thighs as they rested next to his own and quickly made their way back under the skirt Oliver had so admired.  His thumbs massaging circles in her muscles, his fingers traveled towards the lace panties that he had yet to lay eyes on.  But, oh, did he look forward to that.

 

“Now where were we?” Oliver asked, leaning forward for a kiss.

 

With a muffled giggle, Felicity met him briefly before pulling back, saying, “Trying to catch a plane in Houston.”

 

Ginning, Oliver leaned back into her, leaving open-mouthed kisses on her chin and below her ear.  “We have time.”  And if they didn’t, they could damn well catch a later flight.

 

“Mmmm.  You sure about that?  It’s a long drive,” Felicity argued, her voice breathless.  By the way her hips had started to rock against him, Oliver was fairly certain she cared about as much about being on time as he did.  “It’s raining.  We don’t want to miss—”

 

Oliver captured the last of her protests with his lips, his tongue sweeping inside at the same time his fingers slipped under the lace and through her folds.  Done with teasing and ready to end her protests, he slid two fingers deep inside, making her jerk with a small squeal that turned into a moan.  Felicity was wet and ready, accepting him easily after having had him inside her just this morning.  And the night before and…

 

Felicity arched and keened against his mouth, her tongue falling out of sync with his and he took over the kiss.  Until, finally, her mouth fell away completely. Her head dropped back as she rode his pumping fingers.  She cupped the back of Oliver’s head, pulling him toward her even as her back arched away and he followed her, pressing his mouth against her cheek, her chin, feeling the movement of her expressive face as she lost herself in the pleasure he gave her.

 

When Oliver’s thumb found her clit, Felicity went wild, bucking and screaming loud enough to make his ears ring, just as he had taught her to in the last week.  He was not looking forward to getting her to temper her screams when they returned home.

 

Felicity’s nails found Oliver’s back and dug in as he latched onto her neck, careful this time to be less rough, to not make marks. 

 

Oliver’s left hand gripped her thigh, feeling the tension rippling through her muscles.  He had come to know Felicity’s body well over the last few days.  He could feel how close she was to her first peak by the rigidity in her thighs and fingers, the tension in the long line of her throat under his lips. 

 

It was like nothing on this earth.  Oliver gloried in it, breathed it in and when he pushed Felicity over that first edge with a rough swirl of his thumb, he slowed only marginally, keeping her there, loving that he knew she could still come again and again before he was done.  Never, in his wildest dreams had Oliver imagined she would be this fucking fantastic in bed.

 

“Oliver, God,” Felicity gasped.  “We really don’t have time, as amazing as this feels, for another…frack…sex marathon.”

 

“Mmmhhmm,” Oliver agreed against her neck.  Felicity was probably right.  “So, we have a quickie.”  He reached for his belt and zipper.  Though nothing they had done so far could be classified as a quickie.  Why would Oliver want _that_ after he had realized what her body was capable of?

 

Felicity obligingly lifted herself up.  Reaching down, she quickly took him in hand and guided his very ready erection to her entrance.  Oliver let out a long groan that matched hers as she sunk down onto him.  There was nothing like it.

 

Felicity caught her lower lip between her teeth as she leaned her head back and hummed, looking at Oliver from beneath her lashes.

 

“God, you’re beautiful,” Oliver breathed, one hand cupping her ass as she circled her hips and ground against him. 

 

He was rewarded with a smile and a particularly enthusiastic swivel of her hips.  Leaning back in the chair, Oliver gave her a lazy smile of his own, enjoying the view of a fully clothed, in professional attire no less, Felicity Smoak riding him with abandon.   He reached up and cupped her breast through her tight top, using his nail to find and drag over her nipple.

 

“Ahhh, Oliver…”  Her eyes slipped closed for a minute.  “You know, this may be my favorite position, but that's because we can go all night like this.”

 

Oliver growled as another shot of arousal coursed through him at Felicity’s words and he lunged forward looking to capture that lip she was so delectably gnawing at.

 

Felicity laughed breathlessly.  “But, I gotta say, I don't know if this position is quickie material.”

 

Watching her skirt flutter with her movements, Oliver grinned wolfishly.  He certainly had an answer for that one.

 

“Well,” he drawled, bringing his hands to her waist.  “If we're talking my EA/IT girl fantasies this wasn't my _absolute_ favorite.”

 

Felicity lifted one perfect eyebrow and Oliver's grin widened.

 

With one quick move, Oliver lifted Felicity off of him, making her whine as they disengaged.  He didn't give her time to complain, though.  Setting her on her feet and standing, he manhandled her to the kitchen table.   Spinning her and placing a gentle hand on her back, he urged her to lean over and place her hands shoulder width apart on the table.

 

Growling with satisfaction, Oliver kicked her feet apart… _fuck_ , she still had her heals on.  His cock throbbed and twitched, glistening with her juices in the cool air.  As he flipped the skirt up baring her fuchsia lace panties, he felt a primal wave of satisfaction right in his gut.

 

Felicity just laughed, grinning at him over her shoulder, long earrings swaying.  “Really, Oliver?  Your fantasy was to bend me over your desk?”

 

“Mmhhmm,” Oliver agreed, running his hand over the satin and lace of the thong.  “Don't underestimate the power you weld with that ass, Felicity.”

 

Her next laugh sounded more like she was choking, making Oliver chuckle to himself.  His cock was wondering why it wasn't inside her already, but if he was going with this fantasy, then he really should do it right.

 

Falling to his knees, Oliver wrapped his hands around Felicity's thighs and leaned forward, capturing the sinfully sexy lace between his teeth and pulling it down.

 

“Oliver!  What are you…. Oh… Dear…God…. You're killing me here.” 

 

Oliver couldn't make out Felicity expression, buried as he was between her thighs, distracted by her sweet smell…. but he could imagine it was priceless.  Slowly, he dragged the lace down, until it loosened and fell, getting caught where his hands gently gripped her thighs, holding them open for him.

 

He understood that Felicity wanted them to go quickly, but Oliver would rather drive all fucking night to Starling than rush this.  Breathing her in, he stuck out his tongue to delicately run it up her swollen folds. It was a taste he was quickly becoming addicted too.

 

“God, Oliver.   This is _not_ quick!”

 

Swallowing a laugh, Oliver responded by burying his tongue as far as it could go inside her, making Felicity scream.   He was going to miss the loud abandon they could indulge in here.  Once he had fully tasted her, he pulled back, running his tongue down and finding her clit, nudging her entrance with his nose.

 

“Oh dear… _enough_!  Oliver!   Fuck me already!”

 

Oliver never could resist her loud voice.  He was on his feet in an instant.  Gripping her hips, he aligned himself with Felicity's entrance and sank to the hilt without pausing.

 

“Yesssss.”

 

 That’s what this was.  Oliver rubbed the creamy globes of Felicity’s ass and for the hundredth time this month marveled at how he was actually _here_.  Slowly, so slowly, he pulled out, watching his cock reappear with her slick juices and loving the sight even more when he sank back into her.

 

“Oliver,” Felicity hissed, falling onto her elbows and panting.  “We really need to work on your definition of a quickie.”

 

Oliver just laughed, continuing the long, slow pumps of his hips, grinding a bit when he reached the hilt, enjoying the way Felicity’s thighs trembled.  “Some things are too good to rush.”

 

“Mmmm, but…ooooo.”  Felicity arched her neck back and Oliver leaned down to run his teeth over its length.  “If I…if I promise to let you do this again at my office in Palmer Tech, will you—”

 

“Christ!  _Felicity_!”  Oliver honest to God lost all reason at the thought.  And it only had a tiny bit to do with the idea that Palmer might catch him making Felicity his.  No, that was a horrible misogynistic thought that had nothing to do with the way Oliver’s hips took on a life of their own, pounding into her so hard that she screamed.

 

With the last vestiges of conscious thought, Oliver reached around and scissored Felicity’s clit between his middle and pointer finger, applying steady pressure as he fucked her into the table.

 

“That’s…ohhhh Gooooo…”  Felicity fell into a steady stream of wordless cries to accompany the pornographic sounds of flesh slapping flesh.

 

Oliver was mindless now, the rush of pleasure, possession, and love was drowning everything out.  Felicity looked at him over her shoulder and he leaned over her, cupping her chin and kissing her, deep and messy and bizarrely satisfying though the angle was terrible and the coordination nonexistent.

 

It wasn’t long before Felicity’s head fell from his hand to land on her forearm that was braced on the table.  He could feel the muscles of her thighs and backside trembling and Oliver picked up the pace even more.

 

When Felicity finally tipped over the edge, her knees gave out and Oliver was grateful that his reflexes were intact.  He caught her around the waist as he pushed as deep as he could go and followed her over.

 

Oliver let himself have a minute, his cheek pressed to Felicity’s back, holding her to him for a moment more.  But then, because they were short on time, and the sooner they got home, the sooner they could curl together in one of their beds and block out the world, Oliver forced himself to stand.

 

Felicity whimpered as he pulled out of her.  She always did.  Oliver loved it more each time.  He pressed a kiss between her shoulder blades and whispered, “Stay here a second.”

 

Panting, she obeyed without argument, which was a testament to how sated she was.  Felicity just rested over the table, her cheek pressed against the cool surface as her breathing returned to normal.  Oliver grabbed a clean kitchen towel and ran it under warm water in the sink.  She hummed as he cleaned her off and eased her panties up from where they had fallen around her ankles.

 

As he cleaned himself, Oliver couldn’t help but feel bad for whatever cleaning crew would come after them.  The sheets alone.

 

Felicity pushed herself off the table and turned, leaning back against it somewhat bonelessly.  “ _That_ was a quickie?”

 

Oliver smirked.  “For you and me it was.”  He leaned over and gave her a quick peck, running a hand from her waist to her hip.  “I blame the skirt.”

 

Felicity laughed, a bright bubbly sound.  “I think I like your fantasies.”

 

Bringing his other hand to her other hip, Oliver yanked her against him, whispering against her mouth, “I have plenty more.  You tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine.”

 

Felicity bounced just a bit as she came up on her toes, wrapping her arms as far as they could go around his neck.  “Deal,” she declared against Oliver's lips before sealing it with a soft, sweet kiss.

 

“Mmm.” Oliver stroked her back.  “Ready to go?” He asked with another light kiss.  They couldn't avoid leaving forever and, thankfully, it was no longer giving him that sense of dread.

 

The smile on her face dimmed just a bit.  “I guess.”   Looking around the cabin, Felicity ran her hands down his chest and sighed.  “I kind of love it here.”

 

Oliver had known that, but for some reason hearing Felicity say it out loud touched something inside him.  “Me too,” he murmured, stroking her cheek and straightening her glasses.

 

Wrapping her arms around his middle and resting her chin against his chest, Felicity looked up at him and sighed.  “It's like… It's like when you were little and you went on a vacation and you were _so_ happy, but then it was over and you had to come home and all you wanted to do was cry because it was so sad.  Well, when I was really little, you know, before my dad left and my mom had to work 60 hour weeks.  We didn't much go on vacations after that.”

 

Oliver leaned down and kissed her nose, trying to suppress the impulse to find Felicity’s deadbeat father just so he could beat some sense into the man.  Instead, he confessed, “I’ve never had a vacation this good.”

 

He succeeded in wiping the sad look off of Felicity’s face, so he was rather proud.  Laughing, she countered, “Please, I'm sure the Queens went on some pretty impressive vacations.”

 

Oliver shrugged.  “They certainly were _expensive_.”  He didn't really remember anywhere he was so happy he didn't want to leave.  He was an only child until he was ten.  A lot of childhood vacations, he remembered being mostly bored and lonely.

 

“Oliver, you spent the month recovering from a stab wound,” Felicity reminded him, incredulous but, clearly, pleased.

 

“Best.  Vacation.  Ever,” Oliver insisted, punctuating each word with a kiss. 

 

With one last bright smile, Felicity laid her cheek against his chest and squeezed him tight.  Oliver buried his nose in her hair and breathed, savoring these last several quiet moments.

 

Sighing, Oliver pulled back to say, “Let's go home.”

 

Felicity nodded, stepping out of the embrace and grabbing her hand bag.

 

“Do you have the flash drive?”

 

She shot him the look she always shot Oliver when he asked her something that he should _know_ she would never forget.  But Felicity’s only protest was an eye roll as she patted her bag and said, “Right here.”

 

Oliver ignored the look, just nodded and walked over to grab the two duffle bags that contained what little possessions they were bringing home, scooping up the passports and tickets on the way.

 

"Ok," Felicity clapped her hands together and smiled brilliantly.  “So home.  Save the city.  Save Thea.  Kill Ra’s.   Then…”

 

“Then…” Oliver threw an arm over her shoulder as they walked to the door.  “Then I’ll take an announcement out in the _Times_ if you want.”

 

“Uhhh, no.”  Felicity wrinkled her nose adorably and reached up to squeeze the hand draped over her shoulder.  “But maybe a vacation.  A real one.  Without the almost mortal wound.”

 

“I'll do my best,” Oliver promised, smothering a laugh.  “To avoid the almost mortal wound, that is.  The vacation we can definitely do.”

 

Turning and looking up at him, Felicity gave Oliver one of her brighter-than-the-sun smiles.  “It will give you something to live for.”  She leaned up and pecked him on the cheek before slipping out from under his arm to grab their coats.

 

“Oh, I'm pretty sure I have all I need to live for right now.”

 

Felicity shot him a shy, pleased smile and practically bounced to the door.  Following her, Oliver paused at the threshold, watching her rush over to the passenger’s side of the car, hand over her head to block the light rain.

 

Oliver's thoughts raced. All uncustomarily pleasant.  Plans to find his own apartment… _their_ own apartment.  Where to take Felicity to celebrate defeating Ra’s Al Gul.  Which family gems he still had access to.  A specific ring that belonged to his grandmother for generations.  How to get this cabin back as a honeymoon suite.

 

When Oliver joined Felicity in the car, it was with a smile on his face and more hope than he had felt in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here’s the last Chapter. I'm going ahead and marking this as complete for now. I had planned an epilogue, but I think it's got a satisfactory ending without it and I don't know when or if I'll write it. The epilogue is very much an alternate solution to Season Three and my head is very much stuck in season 4. That being said, I could feel inspired at any point and bang it out (no pun intended. It's not even smutty). 
> 
> In other news. I have a ton of other Olicity fics in the works. I had the displeasure of sitting at a hospital bedside for a week (not the good news) and with nothing else to do managed to write a 20,000 word Olicity story that centers around the William secret being revealed only after William is kidnapped and Samantha killed. I'm hoping to clean that up and have it out after Christmas. 
> 
> I also have a fluffy Christmas story in my head that I would like to write this weekend if all goes well. Then…I have a three part Diggle POV Olicity story all outlined too. I'm actually grateful for the hiatus because it will give me time to catch up with all the ideas before giving me new ones.
> 
> Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who read, commented and kudo’d. I really felt welcomed back into the world of fan fiction with open arms.
> 
> Now that we've reached the end, I would love to hear your thoughts on the story. In fact, I'd consider a very special holiday gift. :)
> 
> Love  
> Emmy

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy it. Let me know what you think.
> 
> Emmy
> 
> I recently joined Tumblr and I’m looking for a Beta. If anyone is interested check out the details at: http://emmilynestill.tumblr.com/ (added 2/3/16)


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